ALISON BAKER

 

I saw in the New York Times that a candidate
for mayor of New York advocates
bringing TikTok Hype Houses to New York City.
I was stunned. I had to hurry over to Wikipedia
to find out what language he was speaking. Read More 

My back yard is the only spot around my house that gets sun, so I have stuffed it with native perennials, flowering shrubs, and vegetables.  Read More 

My little dog Pippin has been waking me up at night recently with less-than-subtle heavy breathing, which is his way of announcing that he needs to go outside.  Read More 

The vast Interweb and all its devices and content fill so much of our time during these Stay-at-Home weeks.  Read More 

I have been alone for months, but I dare say I'm not alone in having accomplished almost none of the great plans and projects I had in mind on March 15, 2020.  Read More 

I used to think that I was a fairly empathetic person, and that while I may disagree with someone's actions, I support her psychological need to do something stupid. As I age, however, I find out all sorts of things about myself, and one of them is that I am not a particularly empathetic person. I may realize that a person has certain needs and desires, but I do not understand them, and I do not support her stupid actions. Read More 

It's at about this point every summer that I get tired of my garden.  Read More 

Thurber found a conch on the beach this morning. It was half-buried in the sand, just at the edge of the water. He sniffed it suspiciously, then moved on, but I reached down and picked it up. Its foot was halfway out, but it pulled it in as I turned it over; a tiny mollusk was attached to the shell, but otherwise it was smooth and unblemished. Read More 

Late last winter, before Coronavirus appeared to be an issue, I went to Ecuador on a Bird Photography trip. I envisioned myself lounging about on a vine-shaded patio, a frosty glass of beer at my elbow and my camera in my hand, ready to catch the next White- booted Racket Tail or Brown Violetear that zipped in to sip sugar water from the nearest feeder. Read More 

It's mid-September, the time of year when great explosions of yellow fungi appear
around the base of dead trees, seemingly overnight. Nearby, and all around, clumps of pale Indian pipes are pushing up through the pine needles. And in one patch of dappled sunlight under a pitch pine over on Portanimicut Road, the Rescue Squad and I came upon a teeny-tiny fairyland, a mossy greensward scattered with weensy conical-capped mushrooms.  Read More