From a Window in Wyoming

Awestruck Before Breakfast

image courtesy of adobestock

Sometimes life remembers you back to a moment, the story you’ve told and told — and now you realize with your body that you were actually there. Me in Lost Cabin, Wyoming, 1972. Straight outta Beverly Hills. The only greater culture shock would have been me in my bellbottoms, flower power tank top, and false eyelashes, at the Taliban headquarters. But you get the idea.



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Novelist. Poet. Musician. Buddhist. Quilter. Animal lover. Visible grownup. Hidden child. Secret dancer when all alone. Makes good bread.