It’s hot again. And the wind is beginning to speed up. The solstice just past and already the hills are gold. The milky oats are dry and the soil is barren of moisture. I don’t hear as many songbirds but there are some still out there. Some goldfinches are still…

Today. The wind has been heavy the past few days. The sound of cracking branches is so common that, like today, when things have become slightly more still, I wonder when the next torrent of currents will come. But this is easy to forget. For now it doesn’t affect me. …

37° 59’ 14.3” N, 122° 35’ 16.7” W As I write I imagine my hands in the dirt the way they were yesterday. I look up and at the garden. I love this garden my dad made. There is corn, irises, tomatoes, basil, nicotonia, poppies, ginger. There is also a…

Waking up at 8:30, I drank iced coffee. The sound of birds raging outside. The sight of the Douglas fir and redwood outside, omnipresent. The sun on them lighting up like a beacon. The heat was bursting. At 10:30, it was already 90 degrees. I dreamt about mountains. Something about…

I would be lying if I said that I’m completely satiated in lockdown, but that’s mostly true for everyone. And yes, I’m incalculably fortunate to spend my time writing and reading — to spend this time as I see fit. But I’m beginning to crave the presence of strangers. Craving…

Walking down the hill into that quiet valley, past some madrones and bay, I enter the redwoods. As I walk through the small patch of trees heading back to my bike and home, I see a woman, her legs out like a sumo wrestler as she takes a photo of…

From most hilltops where I live, at least the popular ones here in the center of the county, more often than not look out to the cities, towns, and highways interspersed within the hills that make this place livable for people, that make this county residential. …

I start off these entries with something tactile. Today I’ll say the warmth of the sun mixed with the breeze cools my skin. I then try to describe the moment further. The leaves rustle, the sound similar to a dry corn husk. My dad has heirloom corn in the backyard…

Last night, my dad and I, sitting outside talking about the anxiousness surrounding us, how it seems like everyone, now a month in, seems to be resting on a sharp blade. He said, “It’s just fear.” And in a way that is hard to argue with. Walking around, or running…