Birdsong and a prayer

A harbinger of spring, we tackled the asparagus patch this week. Mel pulled dried weeds and pushed loads of compost uphill. With shovel in hand, I assessed my half of the labor. Yes, our food is worth the work. Fastidious about my gardens’ borders, I began with a...

Light upon an unraveling world

Last Wednesday began in my sunny kitchen, chopping broccoli and onions for soup with Joyce. At 10 a.m. she arrived towing two photo albums, her memoir in progress, and coconut macaroons dipped in chocolate. Her immediate eye spied the ruffled bowl holding Granny Smith...

Babysitting honeybees

My one and only beehive survived the winter. Ecstatic with joy and disbelief, I want to shout it from my housetop, but have a feeling those pollinators are planning to swarm. My favorite beekeepers, heroes who know honeybee behavior, say swarming is a sign of a...

So how many Leap Days ago?

Last night, the thumbnail moon and shimmering Venus stole my extra night of Leap Day’s sleep to count my blessings. I recalled the four Thursdays in February, thankful for safety to and from a memoir class. The thermostat fell the lowest, and snow piled the highest...

Three sides to a story

Today, February 21, the sky shines crystal clear upon Herman McCoy’s account of my birthday-or better said, my birthnight. On foot, my uncle rounded the last curve between Freeburn, Kentucky, and his home in the McCoy Bottom. A heart light with love from courting...