Forsythia season

I rise before dawn and drive south. The spring sunrise glows upon daffodils and forsythia along Rochester Road. I recall this golden hope in a season of grief while en route to my eight o’clock class at Oakland University. Twenty-six years later, forsythia blooms in...

Wayfaring gardeners

“For our Founding Fathers, gardening, agriculture, and botany were elemental passions, as deeply ingrained in their characters as their belief in liberty for the nation they were creating. From Founding Gardeners: the Revolutionary Generation, Nature, and the Shaping...

Learning the meaning of things

A girl learning to read cursive, I discovered a piece of paper on the kitchen counter one day. Mom’s pretty handwriting listed words like flour, baking soda, tea bags–things she used in the kitchen. Then, in the middle of the list she wrote TP. What was that? I heard...

Stories of faith and tradition

Comic relief Youtubes and email about the present plague fill my mailbox. The “mask controversy” leads. But that will change. Zoom and Skype keep folk connected and business rolling forward best they can. My heartfelt thanks to the farmer and hunter who feed us, and...

Spring peepers, silver linings

I cried inconsolably when my father uprooted us from our Kentucky farm to Detroit in 1954. To soothe my homesickness, Mom taught my two sisters and me how to make hollyhock ballerinas with toothpicks. She bought us ice cream at Brown’s Creamery. I loved spinning on...