He walked into the house and was immediately overwhelmed by the smell of stale cigarettes. No one smoked in this house; the odor was stowed away— invisibly— in the fibers of the dark blue uniform. He went directly to the basement, scuffed across the cold floor, and then pulled the chrome beaded chain to turn…
Author: Tim Cotton
Recollections Induced by Candy and Aftershave
I enjoy going to the barbershop. I go to the same Bangor shop where my dad took me when I was twelve. Back then, the shop was owned by a pleasant man. He was a firm-handed gentleman named Ed Lingley. Saturday morning at Ed Lingley’s barbershop featured a blend of dads, sons, and a porridge…
Songs from the Cedar
Cedars are not particularly handsome trees, but they are hardy and grow very well in this climate. This specific cedar is huddled-up close to my dining room window. So close that when the wind comes out of the north—and it does most of the time—it claws at the siding and sometimes bumps the window as…
Spring Sluiceways
March days fall away like lines of dropping dominos as the changing angle of spring sunbeams miniaturize the surrounding piles of snow. The retreating armies of shrinking granules resort to a watery escape toward ditches and streams. Overnight temperatures drop so quickly that fleeing liquids become solids. During the hours of darkness, the stubborn forces…
Poached
Who writes an essay about poached eggs? Not a man who is expecting others to take him seriously. Oh, sure, there are serious bones in my body, but I keep much of that to myself. I choose not to become intertwined in deep conversations when someone expects me to interject some grand idea. My grand…
Watching The Show From Cheap Seats
The curtains of February darkness were yanked-down quickly as I attempted to re-read “Moby Dick” under the illumination of a yellowing map light in the Green Glider. I waited in the parking lot the grocery store, knowing that it’s better to wait it out when her mission includes handwritten lists. The Green Glider is the…
Lawn Mowing Lessons
This is a piece I wrote for the Car Talk website a few years ago. I dragged it out from a shelf in the hall closet to add it to my Newslog this week. I’ve fiddled with it over time. It’s still a favorite from my early writings on venues outside Facebook. It’s called, Lawn…
February Sun
In February, it’s the sun that is the headliner. Sure, you notice the patches of ice, the crystallized, granulated goodness of snow that changes consistency on an hourly basis, and the lack of foliage on your— all bark with no bite— deciduously inclined lawn ornaments. But, it’s the warmth of the sun that sets February…
Once Upon an On-Ramp
I pushed down the blinker lever and tapped my toe onto the well-worn brake pedal. The feedback caused me to consider that I was braking a bit too late, but I would safely make it through the turn regardless of the thick slush that coated the frost-cracked tar. I had an appointment about twenty-five-miles south…
Single Shelf Storage Solutions, and Sushi
My significant other—currently living a semi-charmed kind of nomadic professional life—settled in for some “Hey, TC, I’m in-between places” time at Casa de Timmaay. This is not difficult unless you, the full-time dweller of the 1966 vintage stick-built emporium of the unopened concept, have placed all your things on the shelves in a bathroom built…