The Mockingbird Chronicles: poems, lists, musings on life in Skunk Hollow, a bit of a bowl near the Susquehanna River in York County, PA.
I was harvesting in the cauliflower patch one October afternoon, talking to myself about starting a blog, and the mockingbird began to sing in the treeline. I have always had a pretty harsh internal editor, and it came to me as I stood there that I can fire my editor, and hire Mockingbird instead. “Use more words,” he says. “Repeat, repeat, repeat! If you don’t like the way it came out, repeat until you get it right. If you like what you said, say it again. Say it louder, say it in French, in Swahili, in Hindi, in Japanese!” No more excuses. No more abandoned journals. No more shame.