What Readers Enjoy Reading

September 23, 2018 by Leave a Comment

We were talking about this the other day, not a new topic for conversation, and Lesley commented about a cozy she was reading as being rather plain. The characters weren’t all that remarkable, or even very different from each other. There was little in the way of action, and nothing very exciting when it occurred. I asked why people would enjoy reading that, and she suggested people might find the characters and plot more relatable than some fiction. After all, many people don’t lead particularly exciting lives, albeit they may live from one crisis to the next. They may find it enjoyable and relaxing to read about lives that are not crisis-ridden and filled with threats of world destruction. We have enough of that in our real lives with international tensions, terrorist attacks and people venting their anger at coworkers, or even strangers, with assault weapons.

Our discussion led me to think about popular media drama, past and present. Certainly, Mayberry did not involve the sheriff in anything catastrophic. The episodes of Barney Miller never dealt with crazed gunmen or terrorists. They were light entertainment. A chance to enjoy a short escape from one’s workday, family problems, or community and world events. Some programs got us thinking about social issues. All in the Family gave us an entertaining look at a working-class family learning to cope with social change, including racial relations.

Today, there seems to be an interest in superheroes. I’m not into that, but I can’t help but wonder if superheroes saving the world from supervillains is ‘safer’ than trusting the world’s survival to a single individual ‘licensed to kill’ who we can always trust to ultimately do the right thing. There’s enough faith vested in individual world leaders today to use up every last shred of trust out there, I’m sure. Better to let imaginary heroes fight the good fight for a while.

So, when we look at murder mysteries, how exciting should plot and characters be? Is it more comforting to have a sleuth bake a batch of cookies while solving a murder rather than become entangled in life-threatening danger? Or, is that too blah? I enjoy Agatha Christie, but I would never think of her characters as blah. I love Robert Parker, but his heroes have a heart, even if they find it necessary to kill someone from time to time. For the most part, I don’t care to see the world exploding in nuclear devastation, even though the hero escapes to save the world yet another day. So, what kind of characters do people love to read, and what is it they find appealing? Any thoughts?

As far as my own series goes, I’m still happy with Bobby Navarro. He’s not a superhero, but he is willing to take on a challenge for the right cause, like solving a murder because it’s the right thing to do. Meanwhile, the weather is fall-like and beautiful, and the day is right to go for a hike around a nearby pond with some friends. How is your fall taking off?

Filed Under: Back to basics, Books, Country Living, Reading, Village Life, writing

Empathy-a powerful tool for writers

September 9, 2018 by 2 Comments

Empathy—a powerful tool for writers

Empathy—the ability to feel another’s perspective. It’s a fascinating subject. Empathy can provide a useful tool for survival, such as improving one’s ability to anticipate the moves of an adversary or envisioning the likely response of an opponent to one’s own actions. We see this portrayed in stories of hostage situations in which a victim is able to thwart an armed attacker by getting into their head and appealing to base emotions.

I suppose empathy can be weaponized. I think that is the basis of psychological warfare. Empathetic understanding can be associated with criminal profiling. But, using empathetic understanding for better communication and fostering of improved social relations has greater appeal to me. Empathy can bring insights into the behavior of colleagues, family and friends. It can help one understand the actions and motives of others. I remember my mother talking with a young boy who was jabbing a stick into the earth alongside a shallow ditch. He revealed that he was unhappy in his family’s recent move “to a place where a kid can’t even dig a hole without getting in trouble.”

 Empathetic understanding can be especially important to writers. It can help a writer to understand the feelings and motives of a villain, providing for a more interesting and believable bad guy. This is particularly important as mystery novels increasingly emphasize character complexity. Since a writer must depict a whole cast of characters, good empathetic understanding enriches our portrayal of characters in addition to the villain.

Empathetic skill is important to the writer while conducting research for a novel. It’s not enough to learn about facts and events we want to use in a novel, we need to gain and portray the way people we are writing about, or who have inspired our writing, felt when they did what we want to write about. Those feelings must so permeate our understanding of the people we write about that attitudes and motives will come through in how our fictional characters talk, act, and interact. Their feelings must be more than an analytic deduction, they must be ingrained by the writer and infuse the writing.

Admittedly, some people are simply more empathetic than others. But, can empathy be developed as a skill? I think so. As with most things, practice leads to perfection. We can ask ourselves how people we observe, or study must feel about something. We can consciously ask ourselves what our friends and colleagues seem to feel as we interact with them in a host of differing situations. As we people-watch, and I suspect most writers are people-watchers, we can seek glimmers of empathetic understanding of the behaviors we observe and not simply listen to dialogue or look for amusing situations and characters. I think empathy can be one focus of attention, and that we can improve our ability to employ it with conscious practice.

I don’t portray Bobby Navarro, my series protagonist, as being particularly empathetic. He’s a biker, a blaster, and a loner. But, he’s a people-watcher. And, he solves murders because he cares about people, especially the young and vulnerable. He was able to understand the feelings of a young woman who was a bit of a marginalized individual in Murder on the Mother Road and gain important information leading to solving the murder in that story. Perhaps there’s a little empathetic capability in most of us. It just needs to be developed. What do you think?

Filed Under: Back to basics, blog posts, Books, Reading, Self-improvement, writing

The Magic of Unscheduled Events

August 25, 2018 by 3 Comments

Summer is coming to an end. A woman ahead of me in the checkout lane was buying a young girl crayons and other school supplies at the drugstore the other day. Labor Day is almost here, when people will be hitting the road for the last big trip of the summer. There is a sense of urgency in the air to take advantage of the time left while it is still available.

 Nevertheless, I can’t help but think about times I have encountered memorable discoveries on my own road trips. They were usually unplanned, unexpected. A restaurant a few miles off the interstate traveling through the Midwest turned out to be a gathering place for local farmers and had the best sticky buns I’ve ever eaten. A barbecue place in Texas we gratefully dined at when a breakdown forced us off the road offered terrific meat, slow-cooked and smoked Texas style.

Not all of my memories are about food. A small town with about twenty-seven residents once became a surprise step back into history for me as the old west buildings quietly disclosed hints of a bygone era. A sudden snow storm resulted in an unplanned stay atop a Hopi mesa. Magical moments. Treasured ‘mages from the road. These things can’t be planned, they’re discovered. But, you can be open to their occurrence and take time to appreciate them when they appear. I’m not sure they’re as likely to happen when you have a schedule packed with all the places and activities you intend to encounter.

When I started making cross-country runs by motorcycle, I sometimes waited until the day of departure to choose the route. Actually, I was watching the weather and letting that determine the best way to go. Similarly, I had only a general idea of where I might end up at night. Again, the weather would be a factor, along with traffic conditions and my own energy or fatigue. Rather than uncertainty, it yielded a sense of adventure and a need to explore, and appreciate, what came along. I loved it.

I think life if a little like that as well. It’s good to have a plan, but often the things most remembered, and sometimes the big determinants, occur unexpectedly along the way. And, when I think about writing, the fun aspect is discovering the story as it unfolds. You may work from an outline, but there may well be twists and turns and new thoughts as the writing proceeds. To me, it seems like an adventure. I think the end story is probably better when if it is allowed to evolve and grow a bit.

I can’t imagine my series protagonist, Bobby Navarro, pre-planning the details of one of his road trips or adventures. It would be useless if he did, given the tendency for murder to interrupt his travels and take over his attention. But, that’s who he is. He wouldn’t be Bobby Navarro if he said he couldn’t take time to solve a murder calling for his attention. 

What about you? How do you like to travel best, and are your fondest memories of things planned or do they include the magic of unscheduled events?

Driving Down a Country Road

 

 

Filed Under: blog posts, Books, Country Living, Outdoor living, Village Life, writing

County Fair Time

August 11, 2018 by 1 Comment

This past weekend brought the county fair to our neighborhood. Local farmers started bringing in livestock several days in advance of the opening, along with numerous food vendors. The carnival company trucked its equipment in late at night just before opening day. Watching the traffic build on the street that runs past our house was like a preview of things to come, with an increasing tempo leading up to fair day and the sudden appearance of fairgoers taking advantage of the seasonal highlight. Of course, the big question as opening day approached, was what the weather would be like. This year, it was hot and humid, but not rainy for most of the fair, although we’ve had almost nothing but rain since.

Because we live close to the fairground, we were able to sit on our deck and look down the stream to enjoy the fireworks display the first night of the fair. As always, it was an impressive display. Of course, we also had to pay our visit to the fair itself and walk around the grounds looking at the animals, exhibits, and crowds. It’s an annual must-do for us. This year we were strict in watching our diets and gave up the fair food indulgences in favor of our own cooking. That wasn’t easy. County fairs mean cotton candy, barbecue, and fried dough, and much more. But we were good. Since we’ve been enjoying fresh vegetables from our garden and our local Amish stand so much, it was not all that big of a sacrifice. Holding off on indulging in the ice cream available down the street in the other direction has presented a bigger challenge. I love ice cream. County fairs bring up childhood memories for both Lesley and me. They’re one of the joys of summer.

Our frequent drives through the hills around the area have provided another pleasure, watching the seasonal tableau change. The corn is now high, with brown spikes adorning their tops, a declaration of maturity. Rows of rolled up hay line cut fields, most of them wrapped in plastic to protect against weather. In the untilled areas, several ‘crops’ of wildflowers have bloomed. Splashes of goldenrod and roadside boarder strips of white topped Queen Ann’s lace have replaced views of meadows filled with dandelions earlier in the year. Brown spikes of curly dock provide occasional accents, along with a stalk of mullein here and there. Soon, fields will be muted in dusky shades of late summer, and grasses will turn brown. Right now, everything is still green, from all the rain we’ve been getting although tree leaves are a couple of shades lighter. We feel lucky not to be dealing with the wildfires of the west.

When I first came east, the lush green everywhere overwhelmed me. I felt claustrophobic. Now, I see it as a seasonal state. I’ve also become more aware of the many subtle changes in the landscape as the seasons progress and love to observe them. I think living in the countryside has made that possible. The fields, forest plots and farms offer a much richer and closer connection to the environment. It’s an advantage of village life and country living I treasure.

Now, I must push through the final stages of publication of my latest Bobby Navarro mystery so I can get to work on the next adventure, and the next setting. I’ve gotten behind. I’ll blame it on the weather. Of course, there’s always work to be done on the cottage. That’s been held up by the weather as well. Not complaining, mind you. I love summer. How about you? What does summer mean in your life? What changes in the seasons do you watch for, and enjoy?

 

Filed Under: Back to basics, blog posts, Books, Country Living, Outdoor living, Village Life, writing

Village Life and Country Living

July 27, 2018 by 2 Comments

I like to write about village life. It’s not only because we live at the edge of a village in upstate New York surrounded by farming country, but also because village life is so interesting. Of course, villages and small towns are settings for cozy murder mysteries, and I write murder mysteries. However, this weekend, I’m writing about village life because of the interaction we have enjoyed with our neighbors. Yesterday, we had an appointment in town (a nearby small city) and decided to swing by our favorite farm produce stand on the way home. It’s run by an Amish family and features fabulous organic vegetables. We bought a pattypan squash, a large tomato, and some pole beans. The young woman tending the stand asked me if the pattypan were for sandwiches. She was the one who introduced me to using pattypan squash in this way. I admitted to having become hooked on these sandwich treats and, as we talked, another customer behind me started asking questions about how I make them. Another convert in the making? That would be my bet, if he tries them.

I’m not saying this sort of interaction wouldn’t happen at one of the supermarkets in a city, or anywhere else, but it seems more characteristic of life here in the village. Like, the other day when one of our neighbors dropped by with a container of fresh blackberries from her garden. I later made a blackberry buckle with them. Delicious. She knows I love blackberries, and we look forward to her company at tea time (an afternoon must at our place). Last summer we were kept in raspberries and blackberries all season by this same neighbor. In return, we sent her home with bundles of fresh kale leaves and bowls of cherry tomatoes from our garden. In fact, I think we should plant an extra row of kale next year with these exchanges in mind.

Last weekend we went to a backyard picnic for a neighbor pushing her nineties. The weather had been brutal, but that day was terrific. We sat outside and feasted on hamburgers, hotdogs, and dishes everyone had brought to pass. It was a good chance to see neighbors we haven’t talked with more than a passing hello all summer. There were also people we didn’t know. We were introduced as “the authors”. I don’t know if anyone there had read my Bobby Navarro novels, but didn’t feel any need to slip into sales mode either.

The other means of village identity we seem to own is that we live in the “old _______ house”. The house has been in existence since 1874, so I can hardly object to its having a more established identity in the community than we do. I remember meeting and talking with the former owner whose family name still defines the house when we first moved in. He shared some childhood memories of a flood when their barn was washed downstream during the night. I enjoyed his visit.

Not everyone in the village likes everyone else. We don’t all share the same religious beliefs, or political orientation. We’re not necessarily dedicated to the same values and beliefs. But, we’re neighbors in the village, and that counts for something. I like that. I think these are times when we need more of that village spirit. We don’t all need to be alike, but we do need to recognize that, one way or another, we’re people of the same village.

Filed Under: Back to basics, Books, Country Living, Village Life

Overcoming Overload

July 15, 2018 by Leave a Comment

I used to follow six news sources morning and night and sometimes seek out more. Guess what? That got to be overload. It wasn’t just that I was reading, or viewing, the same focal issues repeatedly. It was that I was being jolted by the same atrocities and crises over and over. The reasons I followed these multiple sources was to check their consistency and seek out more information, but there seemed little I could do with it. I wasn’t a journalist or national decision-maker, just a concerned citizen feeling a need to stay informed. I wanted to touch bases with others, but soon every conversation was either a minefield of socio-political difference, or an exhausting reiteration of similar concerns. I lost balance.

Now, conversations seem to bring out things in addition to the latest political catastrophe or unbelievable event. I wouldn’t call it a return to normalcy, but I suspect there has been a collective attempt to regain normalcy to the extent and in those areas of life where it might be attainable. Now, I sometimes skip one or two news reports in favor of sitting on the back deck and enjoying the evening, or morning. I look at the local wildlife. We have a young cotton tail bunny in our yard we have enjoyed watching since early spring. The birds have built nests, produced offspring and become busy teaching them to forage and survive. Now, they provide an evening concert from their various secure places in the massive tree limbs overhead. The creek is quite low, but beautiful in its burbling meander at the edge of our back yard. Tiger lilies and hostas are the current attraction for butterflies, and fireflies punctuate the night, albeit with smaller flashes than I remember, this year.

The national, and international, social scenes are still chaotic and uncertain. But, that uncertainty provides a needed base for hope as well as angst. The earth still turns, the seasons move along, and there is a majesty in the progression of natural events that surround us. There is a beauty and joy in the quick glimpse of that young bunny running across the expanse of clover underfoot. There is a sense of a functional community in the chorus of birdsongs. And, a mug of coffee just tastes better outdoors than in front of the evening news. The editing phase of my latest Bobby Navarro mystery is nearly complete, and I’m anxious to bring this story to publication. Like the outdoors, Bobby offers a sense of hope and decency, not just diversion. Although, I think a good murder mystery provides plenty of diversion. How about you? Has this been a time in which you’ve had to struggle for your sanity and well-being? What helps, or has helped, you maintain your balance?

Filed Under: Back to basics, Books, Outdoor living, Reading, Village Life, writing

When Things Heat Up

July 1, 2018 by 1 Comment

 

Well, it’s officially summer, but I  convinced by the temperatures in the nineties. As usual, when I ask around, people don’t remember temperatures like this in upstate New York. I suspect people all over are saying much the same thing. I do remember driving my motorcycle through Tennessee one time when it was ninety-nine with ninety-nine percent humidity. That was brutal. I also remember taking my oldest son across the Mohave desert into California in the cooler hours of the night on another motorcycle trip because it had been one-hundred twenty-three degrees that day in Arizona. In spite of traveling at night, exposed parts of my hands ended up with a “sunburn” from heat radiating up from the highway. Temperatures in the nineties? That shouldn’t keep me from working outside on the house, should it? Or, should it?

Turns out, there may be hope for my gaining wisdom in my old age. I stayed inside and did some editing on my latest manuscript. Smart move, I think. The Amish in our area are still working their fields in this kind of weather. Glad they are. The vegetables they sell in their local produce stand are fantastic. To be fair,  most of them are younger than I am. Makes a difference. I know I wouldn’t want to ride through that brutal Tennessee heat and humidity on a motorcycle now either. And, that scorcher in Arizona? Forget it. I’ll let my protagonist, Bobby Navarro, take those rides, and I’ll accompany him through memories rather than recent “research”.  Although, I do recall that several days of my last cross-country trip on the bike hovered around one-hundred-twelve degrees. The thing is, once you’re on the road you have to ride. Trouble is, weather has become even less predictable than it was then. And more brutal.

Growing up in northern California, summer heatwaves invited trips to a local stream where we swam in the beaver ponds. The water was always cold and refreshing. And, when my children were young it was trips to the Connecticut shore that seemed a must-do thing. How do you handle those periods of high heat when it seems too daunting to go outside? I’m thinking a good book and hammock strung up in the shade sounds appealing to me. What’s your approach?

Filed Under: Back to basics, Books, Camping, Outdoor living, Reading, Village Life, writing

Technology Today

June 17, 2018 by 2 Comments

This week I’m running behind schedule on most things, my blog included. I’ve been working on replacing the siding on our house. That means hammer and pry-bar, dozens of nails and bag after bag of debris—not to mention Ibuprofen at the end of the day. Definitely a low-tech operation. That part, I like. I have problems with technological innovations that keep offering to help me do whatever it is I’m doing when I’m on my computer. I have one on my bank app that doesn’t seem willing to concede defeat when I tell it to go away, and one that pops up on my computer when I start up that seems to think I need to install a program I’ve long been using.

I find these ‘helping hands’ an annoyance. I didn’t ask for their help, or their appearance. I don’t feel comfortable with the thought of using them or trying to. And, it doesn’t help when I’m told even a nine-year old can figure it out. I don’t want a nine-year old running my life or having more control over it than I do. One reason I don’t trust these pop-up helper appearances is they want permission to use information from all sources on my computer or phone. I don’t believe they have my best interests at heart. Come to think of it, I don’t think they have a heart.

I concede that there are great advantages to enjoy from the use of modern technology, but they come at the tacit acceptance of disadvantages as well. The trouble with technology, is that it gets ahead of us. Especially those of us who have learned a few things since we were nine-year olds. Like reading a map, writing a memo or note. Or letter. Some of us think we can handle our own organization of documents and photos. We can even organize our own thoughts and put them into a novel of our own creation.

Speaking of novels, I can’t picture my series protagonist, Bobby Navarro, embracing some of this technology either. He rides a Harley across country to relax and enjoy life. He camps out and cooks real food over a fire. Sometimes he stops off at a burger joint for lunch because he feels hungry and sees a place that’s handy. He doesn’t try to find a particular dining experience on the internet and then follow his device to the suggested location. That’s one of the many things I find interesting and reassuring about Bobby. He can do things for himself. Sometimes he gets stubborn in that regard, like when he is solving a murder. I’m glad he does. And, none of his intelligence is artificial. How’s your relationship with modern technology going these days?

Filed Under: Back to basics, blog posts, Books, Camping, Cooking, Motorcycles, Outdoor living, Reading, Uncategorized, writing

Writers and Weather

June 1, 2018 by 2 Comments

Weather is such a variable factor here in upstate New York. People joke about it. Many complain when it changes, bringing a threat of thunderstorms or whatever. Oddly, its one of the things I enjoy here. Not always, but overall. I had to run an errand in a town about twenty miles from where we live, so I took the Mustang and drove with the top down. Gorgeous drive. Farmers are plowing for corn, creating a checkerboard pattern of different colors and shades across the hills and valleys. Trees have leafed-out with lights shades of green contrasting with the darker stands of conifers here and there. Wildflowers are blooming. Yellow buttercups and lavender flowers looking like small pansies are clumped along fencerows and roadsides. Overhead, the sky was blue with white puffs of cloud providing dramatic accents. Horses grazed knee-high in grass and wildflowers, and herds of Holsteins occupied themselves with the rich spring grazing. Some farmers had already taken a cut of hay, and the big circular bales dotted freshly mowed fields. After the drive, we sat on the deck overlooking our own backyard and trout stream. What could be better?

Next morning brought complete change. The temperature was still warm, but not pleasant. Humidity was up, and the sky was heavily overcast and threatening. It remained that way all day. We’re still waiting for the rain, which we can use at this point. I need to water the plants in our vegetable garden. I don’t want them to wilt. And, instead of feeling uplifted by glorious spring weather, there has been a sense of impending problem or crisis of some sort. Easy to become anxious and turn one’s thoughts to all the things that could go wrong. Weather changes can do that to a person.

I’ve experienced a lot of adverse weather on the numerous motorcycle trips I’ve made across country. When you’re on the open road, you are exposed. No way around it. Sometimes, there is little you can do about it except try to survive the ride and whatever it brings. I’ve tried to bring that aspect of riding to my stories of Bobby Navarro. It’s part of riding a motorcycle, especially when you take the long ride. Later, it makes for an adventure you relate to others. At the time, endure the ride as best you can. But capturing the weather seems important to telling the story the way it should be told.

Weather can be a handy tool for a writer. Bringing in the weather can help set the mood for a story (aside from the clichéd It was a dark and stormy night). Shifting the weather from pleasant to threatening can help build tension and suspense. It can even dramatize the personality of a character. Think about a character walking down a seaside path, enjoying the sun, or not running from a sudden shower. Weather can also be used to convey a character’s emotions, something I find challenging. Like a lot of men, I learned more growing up about holding back emotions than I did about acknowledging and describing them. A timely comment about the weather helps me convey something about Bobby Navarro and what he’s feeling and experiencing.

What are your thoughts about weather? Do you enjoy an occasional storm, or cloudy/misty day? I’m going to assume everyone likes a sunny day, especially with a bunny in the grass.

Filed Under: Back to basics, blog posts, Books, Motorcycles, Outdoor living, Village Life, writing

Campfire Reflections

May 19, 2018 by 2 Comments

I’m writing this blog in advance of a camping trip I’m taking with two of my sons. I’ve really looked forward to this. When I was five-to-nine years old my dad took the family camping in the redwoods north of San Francisco where he spent time with relatives as a child himself. We drove an old Plymouth and pulled a trailer for all the camping gear. Of course, the drive was long, and I remember my parents once getting into an argument over something, probably whether we should be taking the trip at all. Dad liked to go because it gave him an opportunity to go deer hunting. Mom thought it only gave her a chance to do her regular housework without benefit of modern appliances.

I doubt that I enjoyed the trip itself, because it required hours of riding in the back seat with my sister. But I did love the camping. We stayed in an army surplus cabin-style, canvas tent. Once we set it up on top of a nest of yellow jackets, or wasps. One or two of them made their way up my pantleg. We had to move the tent, and I had to suffer the effect of their painful stings. We slept on the ground beneath heavy covers, and I still remember the exotic smell of the tent. Mom didn’t think it was so exotic. I don’t know what my sister thought about it.

In the mornings, my sister and I usually ate cornflakes covered in canned milk and served in a tin plate. I didn’t like the taste of the milk that way, and the plate made the meal somewhat tippy, but it was better than breakfasts of eggs and bacon. At that time, I didn’t like either eggs or bacon and it seemed to take hours of chewing before I managed to swallow the last required mouthful.

So, why did I love camping? It seemed almost magical. There was a fallen redwood tree nearby that provided a mammoth bridge to anywhere my imagination could conjure. Mom carved a tiny “truck” from a small branch, and I spent hours “driving” it along the mountain roads I formed along the rise of soft dirt at the bole of the fallen tree. And that tent smell! It reminded me of the gear my returning uncles from WWII brought with them to our home. Add to that the sounds of the sputtering of our Coleman lantern, the hiss of our gas camping stove, and the soughing of the wind in the branches far above us, and most of all, the voluminous quiet engulfing the entire campsite, and it was indeed magical.

After we moved to our farm in the foothills, I did very little camping until I was an adult living in Los Angeles. As a child in the hills, I pretty much lived outdoors. As an adult in the Los Angeles area I felt stifled by houses, traffic, and endless streets and highways. I needed to connect with something that seemed real and not man-made. Camping provided a means toward that end. Bobby Navarro, my series protagonist, feels this way too. Motorcycles and camping provide him with needed connections to his sense of the way life should be.

Although it might be different if I had to do it, cooking over a campfire or camp stove adds to the enjoyment of camping for me—as for Bobby. He honed his culinary skills working for a cook on a cattle ranch in New Mexico. And, while I won’t say everything I’ve prepared under primitive conditions has tasted wonderful, I’ve always maintained that another hour on the hiking trail, or another hundred miles on the back of a motorcycle will improve the taste of any campsite culinary creation.

It’s ironic, I suppose, that something always so magical would help me stay grounded in reality. Well, not any reality. The streets and highways of Los Angeles were real enough. But they didn’t give me any sense of being in touch with a world I loved, the outdoors. Compared to a birdsong or the fragrance of wood smoke, Los Angeles traffic didn’t make me feel grounded at all. Maybe that’s part of the lure of camping for me still. Looking up at the stars at night, I feel an appreciative awareness of the universe. What keeps you grounded in the things that matter most to you?

Campfire cooking

Filed Under: Back to basics, blog posts, Books, Camping, Cooking, Outdoor living, Uncategorized, Village Life