William Blake, if my feeble knowledge serves me, used to sit around naked reading and sometimes receiving visitors. While I cannot attest to similar experience, there is at least a parallel in my current penchant for hanging out in my greenhouse. Yes, there is a potting shed behind the house where on many a pleasant day I have been known to retire for considerable periods. San Francisco is a windy place, and the greenhouse provides a glassy chamber that both traps heat and excludes wind. It is a Read more [...]

I am sitting in Bello Coffee down the hill on what can only be described as day four of post-UK and realizing what is probably obvious to everyone else – that I am the oldest person in the café. Well, looks are deceiving, so it is possible, barely possible, that the "old lady" who recently vacated the table by mine has a year or two on me. Same for the "old guy" slouched in the chair against the wall. But I have my doubts. Somehow this day I reign as the oldest. And precisely what this means Read more [...]