A wholesome thing

My computer sits marooned under our painter’s drop cloth. For the first time in my life as a journalist, I carry a recycled composition book and pen outside, and write. It feels good. How could it not when I’m overlooking sixty new lavender plants happily growing on a...

Learning to take care by example

My grandmother taught me to love good food by her joy in growing it, cooking and serving it. During my childhood, Granny’s table was the safest and most delicious place in the world. My mother taught me the absolute bliss of birthday parties. Without fail she baked...

Reconciliation of summers

I awake before dawn to the roar of rolling thunder. After another dry spell, the heavens at last shake the house with the sound waves of kettledrums and cymbals. I smell the crescendo of rainfall before I hear its blessed tap-dance on the rooftop. My abused bones and...

The Storytelling Tree

Andy loved building things. He worked a good, long day on my whim to swing like a kid again. Up and down his extension ladder he went, drilling two holes into a limb of a maple, turning giant eyehooks until secure, knotting the rope and threading it through the wood...

Memories of Granny’s church

While deadheading Cosmos beside a garden gift I named Granny’s Church, the blissful summer I spent a month vacationing alone in Kentucky came to mind. Nine years old, my aunts passed me from house to house in the McCoy Bottom where I ran the farm all day and chased...