Tag Archives: William Stafford

Travels

Saturday, my daughter and I drive through Montpelier, Vermont’s capitol city. I’m in the passenger seat, as I always seem to be these days, while she negotiates intersects. Who has right-of-way? When can you turn right on red? Eventually, she … Continue reading

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Ah, Winter

Every winter, I shovel a path from the woodshed to the back entry, and another from the kitchen door to the compost pile, a hand-cut maze around my house. The snow in northern Vermont falls so amply my daughters, when … Continue reading

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Revision and Freedom

I write, but I’m also a knitter, and one of the beauties of knitting is that you can rip the whole darn thing out and begin again. It’s just yarn, as I tell myself. Re-knitting might be tedious, but it’s achievable. … Continue reading

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