"For behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come..." ~ Song of Solomon 2:11-12 Gardening and yoga Papa Jay trying to describe the forsythia by the bridge: "Like the sun just sitting there" Tuesday morning rain and writing Painting "Starry … Continue reading april ttmmh
It was April, and a thousand daffodils were blooming down the hillsides, along the pond banks, and up near the old Bascom House. Helen met Papa Larry and I in the parking lot of Shaw Nature Reserve. It had been more than a year since we’d seen her, and I’d forgotten how her laugh sounded … Continue reading Burnt Grass ~ A Good Friday Reflection
“There was no trace of the fog now. The sky became bluer and bluer, and now there were white clouds hurrying across it from time to time. In the wide glades there were primroses. A light breeze sprang up which scattered drops of moisture from the swaying branches and carried cool, delicious scents against the … Continue reading Summer Is Near
Dear Young Writer, There will be times when you write with the wind in your sails, when the world is too full to take in, and ideas leap up so fast you can't reel them in. And then there will be times— probably more often— when you can’t remember what those other times were like. … Continue reading Dear Young Writer,
"No matter what changes take place in the world, or in me, nothing ever seems to disturb the face of spring." ~ Essays of E.B. White Bookstores and kombucha on my twenty-first birthday Seventy degrees on March 1, driving home barefoot Friends who birthday-surprised me with tea and brunch and a book-themed escape room and … Continue reading march ttmmh
When I looked in your eyes I didn't see fear or questions about the war--- But of course! I saw the tree above us reflected and growing toward the sky.
March winds have torn the plastic on our little greenhouse, so I clomped out in my rubber boots last Tuesday to reinforce what I could. I needed the staple gun from the shed, so I fit the key in the lock and pushed the door open. My eyes widened to the darkness and ran up … Continue reading The Snake in the Shed
I remember reading where C.S. Lewis and his friends (J.R.R. Tolkien among them) would sometimes walk a days’ journey across the English countryside together, stop at a pub for beer and rest, then take up their walking sticks again the next morning. “It was an idyllic way to spend three or four days. Footpaths were … Continue reading Writers On Walking
Take a left at the end of our driveway, and you’re headed downhill, over the railroad tresses, then up to where Edgewood Road meets the Old Highway. You’ll follow Krinning’s fence, which is so old the trees have grown up through its wires — but before you start up the hill, there’s a place where … Continue reading On Walking
"I’m sitting here in Februaryand asking you to please tell me againwhy all the poems are about spring." ~ E.M.H. Morning skate, then oatmeal Winter storm on Wednesday, when the boys stayed home from work and Leanna, Barrett, and Papa Larry spent the night, and we ate pot pie and watched it swirl down off … Continue reading february ttmmh
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