Just beyond the town of Vila Nova de Foz Coa, I looked back.

Just beyond the town of Vila Nova de Foz Coa, I looked back.

theresakishkan.com/2025/11/06/p... Alt text: a calm river with silvery green trees on its banks

theresakishkan.com/2025/11/06/p... Alt text: a calm river with silvery green trees on its banks

theresakishkan.com/2025/11/05/p... Alt text: faint engravings of horse and ibex on rock

theresakishkan.com/2025/11/04/p... Alt text: trees with yellow leaves overlooking hills and a deep valley

theresakishkan.com/2025/11/04/p... Alt text: trees with yellow leaves overlooking hills and a deep valley

theresakishkan.com/2025/11/03/p... Alt text: blue river, blue sky, green and brown hills.

theresakishkan.com/2025/11/03/p... Alt text: blue river, blue sky, green and brown hills.

theresakishkan.com/2025/11/02/p... Alt text: hills above a wide river, vines turning gold

theresakishkan.com/2025/11/01/p... Alt text: a couch spread with kilim carpets

Astonishing to be here, at the Freud Museum in London. I read him fairly extensively for my forthcoming book...

theresakishkan.com/2025/10/30/p... Alt text: programme cover for Conor McPherson's The Weir, man's face against brown background.

redux: morning (parenthesis) Note: this was posted last September, when we were on the verge of going to France to visit the Dordorgne Valley and Vézère Valley (the Vézère River is a tributary of the Dordogne). _____________________ This morning, at the beginning of my swim, a little silver trout…

Options for ordering my forthcoming book! thornapplepress.ca/books/the-ar...

Options for ordering my forthcoming book! thornapplepress.ca/books/the-ar...

An anniversary post

redux: “So let the battered old willow/thrash against the windowpanes” (Stanley Kunitz) Note: it's our wedding anniversay today. 46 years. Last year we walked from our Marais apartment to a celebratory dinner at a pretty little bistro on Île Saint-Louis in Paris. Another year we spent the night at…

Devastating. www.theguardian.com/books/2025/o...

redux: “So let the battered old willow/thrash against the windowpanes” (Stanley Kunitz) Note: it's our wedding anniversay today. 46 years. Last year we walked from our Marais apartment to a celebratory dinner at a pretty little bistro on Île Saint-Louis in Paris. Another year we spent the night at…

“If a safe and inviting public realm filled with arts and culture is essential for Victoria – as city councillors claim that it is – I find it curious that there’s no appetite to compel a negligent landlord to take action and breathe life back into Bastion Square.” buttondown.com/leftcoastdis...

"I keep looking up for a glimpse of geese...They are like a string, one that tightens and closes the year. I’m ready for that, the sound and the closure."

"I keep looking up for a glimpse of geese...They are like a string, one that tightens and closes the year. I’m ready for that, the sound and the closure."

Just after 7 this morning, John was looking out the south window by our bed and I asked, What's the day like? Clear, I think, was what he replied, because I can see just the thinnest fingernail of a moon in the big trees. He went downstairs to make coffee and I looked for myself, just as the cat…

Just after 7 this morning, John was looking out the south window by our bed and I asked, What's the day like? Clear, I think, was what he replied, because I can see just the thinnest fingernail of a moon in the big trees. He went downstairs to make coffee and I looked for myself, just as the cat…

Oooh, @rwpickard.bsky.social thebcreview.ca/2025/10/15/2...

"I was listening to "Sad-eyed Lady of the Lowlands" and looking at the cover, remembering that I was listening to the same song when I was lying awake in the night in 1978, wondering what to do about the situation I found myself in, the one I write about in my book."

"I was listening to "Sad-eyed Lady of the Lowlands" and looking at the cover, remembering that I was listening to the same song when I was lying awake in the night in 1978, wondering what to do about the situation I found myself in, the one I write about in my book."

theresakishkan.com/2025/10/14/o... Alt text: a gravel road leading up a hill through trees

theresakishkan.com/2025/10/14/o... Alt text: a gravel road leading up a hill through trees

Before making duck with chanterelles for our Thanksgiving dinner, I am spending time with the proofs of my forthcoming book: thornapplepress.ca/books/the-ar... I love the page design! I love the cover! So much to be thankful for...

Before making duck with chanterelles for our Thanksgiving dinner, I am spending time with the proofs of my forthcoming book: thornapplepress.ca/books/the-ar... I love the page design! I love the cover! So much to be thankful for...

Let's not forget Ukraine. www.theguardian.com/books/2025/o...

Out for a Thanksgiving walk. Bird bones scoured by coyotes, bear scat, and -- chanterelles.

"I remember how it felt to gallop my horse up the long golden slopes, sometimes rousing pheasants, sometimes surprising a slumbering cow."

"I remember how it felt to gallop my horse up the long golden slopes, sometimes rousing pheasants, sometimes surprising a slumbering cow."

theresakishkan.com/2025/10/11/a... Alt text: a grainy black and white photograph of fields, trees.

theresakishkan.com/2025/10/11/a... Alt text: a grainy black and white photograph of fields, trees.

"Wading across the rising creek, I suddenly spotted an unusually large shell on the bottom, partly obscured by eelgrass. Curious, I lifted it out and put it in my bucket among the frilly oysters..."

"Wading across the rising creek, I suddenly spotted an unusually large shell on the bottom, partly obscured by eelgrass. Curious, I lifted it out and put it in my bucket among the frilly oysters..."

theresakishkan.com/2025/10/10/r... Alt text: two striped winter squash and an oyster shell on a chipped yellow plate, a flowered jug holding pink flowers alongside

theresakishkan.com/2025/10/10/r... Alt text: two striped winter squash and an oyster shell on a chipped yellow plate, a flowered jug holding pink flowers alongside

"Once my brothers buried me in the sand hoardings under the building–I imagined that it was dust from the stones themselves but learned later that it was sand used to make cement for installations — and how I had to lie there for hours until they remembered me and dug me out."

"Once my brothers buried me in the sand hoardings under the building–I imagined that it was dust from the stones themselves but learned later that it was sand used to make cement for installations — and how I had to lie there for hours until they remembered me and dug me out."

theresakishkan.com/2025/10/07/w... Alt text: young buck lying on green grass among graves