Under the Pergola

I said “Sure” when Mary Ellen called Monday morning and asked if I was free to kayak Thursday at 9:30 a.m. with another friend. We never made it on Lakeville Lake and to lunch last year, so we hankered for the companionship. That night at writing group, Elaine asked,...

More than one way home

Most every July of my childhood, Dad drove our family to Kentucky for vacation. The summer he couldn’t leave his barbershop, Dad dropped Mom, my sisters, and me off at the Detroit bus station. In Ohio, we boarded a train to Williamson, West Virginia. That meant a...

Sustenance is worth the cost

I load $164 worth of groceries into my car. I’ll take Shepherd’s Pie to pass for my Monday night writing group, and the hens will gobble up our kitchen scraps. Otherwise, my husband and I will consume the bulk of this bounty in one week. How has this...

Erna’s garden wisdom

Don’t fork or spade soil until it is dry enough for the clods to crumble when they fall. —The Gardener’s Bed-Book by Richardson Wright, 1929 This time of year I recall my friend Erna Hermann and her weeding methods. First, she collects her garden wardrobe:...

Bluebird watch

A gray morning breaks. I walk our land. Three and a half acres. Enough space for two septuagenarians to dwell in relative peace. The scent of wet earth revives me—winter’s damage strewn high and low, near and far. I start toward the garden steps to upright three...