An old photo of my Mom, Nancy Harvell, with an Olympic torch. The flame of her memory burns bright.

Family-memory stories gain a patina with age and become the stuff of legend. The Story of Chicken is one of those stories.

Celebrating kindred spirits, serendipity and Great Blue Herons on the Bolivar Peninsula.

A friend of mine from high school posted an absolutely – heartbreakingly – beautiful photo of our lighthouse. On the Bolivar Peninsula.

A haiku for yesterdays, with images from the enigmatic Bolivar Peninsula of my childhood.

Thanksgiving weekend, eight of us family members spanning three generations packed into my Honda Pilot and headed down to the Bolivar Peninsula where I grew up.  We were on a mission to visit Dad’s favorite restaurant down there, and remember him. It was a perfect…

Labor Day weekend of 2000 was the last time I saw my Mom; we shared cherries and empathy at the beach house on the Bolivar Peninsula.

This rough little poem came spilling out of me as I thought of those halcyon sand-ridden childhood days and so many memories flooded in. Everything seemed so safe, so permanent, so lively-lovely in our tiny town of 600, Gilchrist, Texas.

Birds and more birds enjoying the mild winter in Gilchrist, Texas on the Bolivar Peninsula: herons, sandpipers, brown pelicans and seagulls. A great day trip from Houston.

The Texas Gulf Coast and its brown pelicans inspired a haiku.