It was rainy spring morning, perhaps the only saving grace was a possibility that the pollen washed into the gutters and soil for the first hours of dry sunlight. I found myself deep in my closet with a cup of coffee. I’ve never fashioned my wardrobe as an expression of minimalism or efficiency. The folks … Continue reading
A hunting memoir written for The Sporting Gent and TSG Apparel about our annual quail hunt. https://www.thesportinggent.com/blogs/dispatches/front-porch-musings-one-quail-of-a-day Continue reading
This morning I am holed up in my office packing for a trip south to shoot birds. This little private office is my nest. It is a space that warehouses toys and tools, projects, and memories. Part office, part depository, my private quarters are a boot-room meets art studio with cocktail service to boot. The … Continue reading
“Who uses a chainsaw in a button up?” Bear with me through this muse- my long list is at the end. I get the guff all the time. “Dude, who wears a polo to the gym?” “Did I see you cutting your grass in an Oxford cloth shirt?” Yes Dammit. I have some odd idiosyncrasies … Continue reading
I woke up hard in the corner with my neck pressed up into the bed post and knees in my chest. I was dressed and embarrassed that I was asleep. I had dressed myself already in anticipation of leaving early. He spun the flashlight into the wall from the nightstand and swung me around to … Continue reading
I have an odd fixation on limes. I cannot narrow a memory to when this began. Perhaps the fetish was born from just the simple preference for lime’s more tart and exotic flavor over its sweeter and more common lemon cousin. Lime, then, was always my choice when presented as the candy or drink. Lime-aid … Continue reading
Caches of intimate and sentimental objects tell stories. Those artifacts that inhabit spaces and places like pockets, catch-alls, and cup holders proclaim both how we have lived and what we anticipate. Our “daily carry” can be mundane, utilitarian, and perhaps thoughtless. Conversely, many exist for nostalgic yearning, pleasurable habit, and perhaps vanity. The modern man’s … Continue reading
It was a golf cabin and he was a golfer. I’m not a golfer. He said bring, “bring your rod, there’s a little fishing on the golf course- maybe you can show me something- we have permits to fish it- it’s private.” This is when I termed the phrase, WHORE HOUSE FISHING. It was the same experience I had 15 years prior. Pellet feed, no one around, absolute monsters. Whore house fishing because your paid for it. Continue reading
Part I: The Longing There are so many things absent in our lives this year. A recurring treat that has sidelined this year are the impromptu pilgrimages to the Islands. For years, my wife Casey and I have slipped away for “long weekend” to dates together to the Caribbean. We usually travel on relatively short … Continue reading
When I was sixteen years old it was expected that if I wanted gas in my car, that I get a summer job. My mom suggested that I call the local department store. A whole bunch of people there were like family- a good bit of them were her family. After a week of behind … Continue reading
Big Haint Blue 