“Selling the House,” August 6, 2026

Here we are, coming up on mid-August and this educator family is feeling all the feelings as we watch our daughter prepare for outfitting two classrooms, welcoming 750-some kids into them, look ahead to months of sleeplessness and bustle. We woke to the dense fog of a cold front coming to meet what have been some hot days — another sign. But we have great neighbors who are happy to grumble about the weather with us. Our primary elections are done, and our guy moves ahead to a tough and unevenly funded campaign. And no, we are not selling the house. This poem inspired by the sale of our parents’ house long ago.

Hey, there is just one more writing workshop at Oxbow this summer with a few seats left. Click here for all the registration details..

“Walking at Night, Father and Daughter,” July 30, 2026

Goofiest show yet? We think maybe? Stuff happens. But the dog takes an encore, and the pond is getting a new deck and dock and floaty thing. And all shall be ready for the sibling reunion and the Perseids, we think. So there is that, us fiddling while the world is burning. And one very good old poem. MIGHT be seats left in the August 22 writing workshop at Oxbow. Always a good kick start or warm-up, or cage rattler for your writing practice. Follow this link to learn about it and to sign up!

“Zimmer Teaches a Young Dog Old Tricks,” July 23, 2026

The traffic in this place! The dog is in a hurry to leave, the deer are walking by, juvenile Red-Shouldered Hawks hawking all over the place. (Julie is especially geeked about this.) Fish are jumping, etc. And the latest Oxbow workshop was sensational. So are our neighbors. All this despite a dental implant, but it all goes in the experience book, including remembering our great old friend, Paul Zimmer. One more Oxbow workshop before the summer ends on August 22. Follow this link for the best route for signing up, because the Oxbow website is super confusing.

“Lord Percival Jones,” July 16, 2026

The Canadian Wildfire Smoke has reached us. Well, it’s all the way into Indiana by now. Ashes falling up north. The Canadians in the paths of these fires will need our help, folks. Material and spiritual help. It’s been a week of managing nature and visiting with amazing students, and planning upcoming shennanigans with poets and musicians, and attending physical therapy to try to keep up with it all. It’s a juggling act, this old age business, and here’s a poem about that, sort of. (Still a couple of seats left in Jack’s last Oxbow workshop of the season on August 22. Follow this link for instructions to sign up.)

“ Prayer on a Morning My Car Wouldn’t Start,” July 9, 2026

It’s deep summer now, and we have gardens bursting, hoses hosing, wonderful students visiting, workshops filling, and a dog with ants in her pants. So many ants. And a fine old favorite hit of a poem on the jukebox. We hope your summer is summering and you can find some joy in the midst of it all.

Pro Tip: Want to get into that August workshop before it shuts down? Use the links on this page to both learn about the August Workshop AND follow the link at the bottom to register, because those web pages a pretty hard to find otherwise.

My Writing Classes This Summer!

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The catalogue is out, the rosters are filling, so now is the time to register if you want to join one of the lovely groups of humans and work on building those writing muscles — or finding your writing muscles. I aim to make this the least threatening and most heartwarming way to get started on, or dust off, your writing practice. Folks who have joined me over the years around this table say it’s working! It’s an experience. And needed now more than ever.

(Simply sitting around with a bunch of nice people in a beautiful setting and deeply connecting over our stories? Yes, please. Community will save us, I think.)

Same workshop, on two different days. The links will take you to the Oxbow website with the course description, and there is a registration link at the bottom of this post, or alternately, a phone number to call to register with an actual human.

I hope to see you around the porch table this summer!

New Beginnings in Writing, July 18, 10am to 5pm, Tuition $150

https://www.ox-bow.org/2026-aom-workshops/new-beginnings-in-writing-july

New Beginnings in Writing, August 22, 10am to 5pm, Tuition $150

https://www.ox-bow.org/2026-aom-workshops/new-beginnings-in-writing-august

When you’ve decided if you’d like to join me, just click here to the registration form!

OR

Call Oxbow’s front desk and talk to a human! Ox-Bow staff are available by phone at (269) 857-5811, Monday–Friday, 9:30 a.m.–1:00 p.m. and 2:00–5:00 p.m. ET

“High Fly: the Outfielder,” July 2, 2026

We have had great visits from friends old and new this week, and are looking forward to the rest of my summer Oxbow writing classes. Goose your writing practice in the nicest way possible, in community, and in a beautiful place. Why not? Check out this link to find the easiest links to sign up. We hope you are staying cool where you are and getting in good visits too! Also, have you noticed the way that soccer reminds us that the whole world is much bigger than just us? We hope you can watch a few matches and Men in Blazers to gather in the joy. We all need it.

“What Holds,” June 25, 2026

We are celebrating our anniversary, waiting for the clouds to clear, serving the dog, and looking forward to workshops at Oxbow. It’s almost July, which boggles our wee brains. We are easily boggled. We hope your summer is kind if it’s summer where you are, even alongside great tragedies and colossal stupidities. Sometimes, persisting is just noticing what the clouds are doing, and noticing your dog, and your coffee. (Yes, Rob, David, and Jonah, it’s a two-sip poem today.)

“The Daydreams of the Catcher of The Queen of the Air,” June 18, 2026

Stormy Weather. We’ve been tracking storms and possible storms, near misses, and ones that come through and make us very aware of tall trees all around us. We’ve lost power a couple of times, worried about new plantings, and comforted the dog in the thunder. And we enjoyed not having to water anything. Some good books to talk about as usual, and two more lovely Oxbow classes on the horizon. Did the summer just start, or is it zipping by? An old student is stopping by today. Always welcome, always a joy to catch up. And a circus poem, because we are living inside a circus, so why not revisit those?

“It Could Be,” June 11, 2026

Beaming with memories of last week’s Oxbow class of writers on a beautiful day, and then Monday’s standing-room-standing-O at the Screenless event at HAAC with the Terminal Buds. We have had a lovely week, and are putting ourselves together again after last night’s flash storm. Strong and short.

There are more Oxbow classes on the horizon, and there is still room in them if you’d like some time to get your writing. mojo puffed up again. Click here for the details.

And then there’s this poem that feels like the right poem on a fresh day after a storm.