Christie Cochrell

Christie Cochrell loves the play of light, the journeyings of time, things ephemeral and ancient. She’s worked with ship cargoes, rare books, and British archaeologists, traveled extensively since her childhood in Santa Fe, New Mexico, and woolgathered compulsively along the way. She’s settled on the northern California coast in Santa Cruz, the unceded ancestral homeland of the Awaswas-speaking Uypi Tribe, and is immensely grateful for the sensory riches and toothsome words she’s stashed away over the years to share in her writing.

No Rest for the Wicked

By Christie Cochrell / September 9, 2024

Mrs. Morrison was too busy to die. She had the damson plums to put in jars […]

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Mrs. Morrison was too busy to die. She had the damson plums to put in jars