Over the river and through the woods, To grandmother’s house we go. The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh Through white and drifted snow… It was a Thanksgiving song we learned in grade school. Do you remember? I knew, from the moment I saw my farm, that they wrote that song about … Read more
A bright blue flick of movement, almost too small to see. White feathers spark the light, even more startling than the blue. What was that? I am not a birdwatcher in the true sense. I don’t know names or habits. I don’t keep lists or have binoculars. Sure, barn swallows have been dive-bombing me most … Read more
Seems every farm family had one in a generation; a distant misfit girl-cousin who read too much or wore men’s jeans or hated to cook. As soon as she could, she traveled away to Portland to work in a library or to Tucson to be an artist. The family only whispered her name then, kitchen … Read more
Seven iced-over winters followed by sweet bugs on long summer days. Flightless old girls with twisted toenails and dim eyes, each year their webbed feet turn a bit more inward, carrying the weight of their front-heavy bodies. Was it a plan? The hens began to answer the barking terrier, marching wing to wing and … Read more