PAUL CHRISTENSEN

Summertime. A lush, fat sun shines down on me as I walk to the épicerie, the general store at the other end of the village. Arrived in...

Ever notice how the headlines in the NY times and the Washington Post are always binary, joining a claim of possible relief from our...

A mild, muggy day in late May, with the sky hanging within touch over the house. The fields are all puffed up with new grass, and the...

I’m writing these words as a thunderstorm crashes over the house. Great empty wine barrels are tumbling to a stone floor, rolling noisily...

A chilly, damp, paralyzing Spring, with soggy skies and faded landscapes. Reality feels like a pair of washed-out blue jeans. But the...

As the world rages to our east, and the fires flare up in Arizona, we have the first signs of spring – dark green spikes, crumbly...

The weather here reminds me of Robert Eggers’ recent film, The Lighthouse, about a world of gloomy overcast skies and penetrating New...

The vernal equinox came and went, like a cat creeping over the newly sprouted heads of anonymous weeds. You hardly knew, unless you were...

We're getting another snowstorm this afternoon. It almost makes me break down in sobs I am so tired of freezing winds and storms coming...

There is no greater pleasure in these dark days than to see the icicles on the porch eave melting in steady streams, like pouring water...