I teased the book cover last time. I told you how I saw it and wept because it was perfect. I am not expecting you to have the same reaction, but know that this cover is deeply special to me. The model is someone who played a big role in my life and who totally embodied the spirit of HALF WILD.
A notebook with a green cover like a pool table held accounts of trying and failing to spend less money. It landed on the coals with a sigh, and a hundred pages of angst and sadness went up in flames.
Outwardly, I feign sophisticated, picky interest, as the possibilities play in my head. Perhaps, I consider, this fresh lamb’s wool sweater will transport me from my current life to that of the adventurous Canadian isle fisherwoman from the catalog. I buy the lie of consumerism and, often, I buy the sweater too.
I’m watching low clouds pour over the sandstone peaks of the Colorado Front Range from the window of my rented cabin. The grey damp lends itself to a productive day of work at my laptop, letting me get lost in deep projects or skim across my email inbox like a hawk across the glassy surface …