Jarvis Coffin - JarvisCoffin.com (Page 3)

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Jarvis Coffin

I write fiction and essays on rural life in Southwest New Hampshire from a desk over a garage, looking out the window through trees at a small pond, always hoping the power doesn't go off.

The White Wood Aster

The White Wood Aster

There is a metaphor in that, which the White wood aster knows.

Green Tomatoes

It is tough to be a tomato in New England.

Sentimental Lights

Sentimental Lights

I can conjure an argument for why our collective imagination, the state of romance, and all the poetry in the world have suffered since the advent of incandescent light.

Bear

The counselors positioned it this way after breakfast: go back to the cabin, brush your teeth, put on good shoes, we’re going bear hunting.

The Children are Back

The Children are Back

We are asked frequently if children are welcome at the Inn. The answer is yes for the reason that in our own lives, as children, inns were magical places.

How's Your Back?

How's Your Back?

It turns out that everyone has an opinion on back pain. Why not? One out of two people are affected.

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Winter

If you want the real deal when it comes to New England, you must come in winter.

Our Inner Loon

[Loons] are among the Eagle Scouts of evolution. They are ungainly on the ground, not graceful fliers, but clearly, loons opted for diversification, perhaps because it made sense to hedge their bets at a time when volcanoes were still erupting and meteors plummeting to earth.

Snow Haves and Have Nots

Snow Haves and Have Nots

The line between the snow haves and have-nots is sharp this year. We met our friends outside of Boston, where there was no snow. We went further south to Foxboro, and the land was barren and brown.

Where Have You Gone, David Crosby?

Where Have You Gone, David Crosby?

The loss of David Crosby has me worried about this . . . What compares today? What do we hold in common? Things appear and disappear so fast in this information age . . . turned to mulch with every page refresh. In a content world built around sharing, there is very little to hold on to.

A Few Words from Dr. King

A Few Words from Dr. King

We have despaired the last couple of years over the cantankerous nature of our politics. I will tell you it was worse in 1968.

Migration Time

It will be the unique and solitary sound of the owl serving as our closest friend over winter . . . except for footprints in the snow and a few ghostly pictures from our wildlife cameras strung around the trees.

They're Baaack

The black flies came early this year. The adage has been Mother’s Day through Father’s Day, but I think they were here right after Easter. We live in the woods by the water, prime conditions for the little bloodsuckers.

Getting Out More

Getting Out More

An ocean person will point to an island on a map and say, I have been there. Mountain people will stand at the base and respond, I have been to the top. Each always has thoughts of returning.

Home

I was moved by a sense of adventure in a strange land, by calls to prayer drifting from loudspeakers in Arabic and Hebrew, by the beauty of Christian churches, Catholic, Greek Orthodox and Armenian

Saving Huckleberry

Saving Huckleberry

Life without a dog for nine months had advantages, mobility among them. Go anywhere, anytime, without having to provision for the animal.

Beneath the Canopy

Beneath the Canopy

Beneath the canopy, very little grows straight. Every bit of ground is contested. Every angle of sunlight is made available on a first-come, first-serve basis. Everywhere there are predicaments

The Player's Punch

The Player's Punch

Sit through any community auction, and you will learn something about its people.

Thank you, Puppy

I have a lifetime to try and make good on my obligations to humankind, but the dogs are never around long enough to even the score.

Pilgrimage

Streams of people ahead of us down the footpaths, all of us coming behind those who excavated the caves of worship centuries before

Spring Feverish

Spring Feverish

God help us; it is March, and we are beginning to think about spring.

Snail Salad

It is entertaining to imagine myself at the table with my grandchildren, bargaining with them to finish their snail salad.

February

The rhododendron leaves are folded up very tight this morning. I could pluck one and slide it into a cigar tube. It is forecasted to be twelve degrees tonight, and the temperature is headed down for the weekend.

Ice

A couple of people went through the ice last week on a nearby lake. They were rescued, thankfully, but it always sends a shock and a reminder.