Last light touches the pink petunias in the window box. We hold hands. It’s dinnertime. We ready for our ritual feast with a quick scan of the table. Ketchup…Check. A1 sauce…Check. Steak knives…Check. Each night we choose our blessing style, a song, take-turns spoken grace or silence. Tonight we choose a song. They sing low….
{ monthly archives } June 2009
On the longest day of the year, there’s a party…music, children, hula hoops, neighbors, friends and cobbler. Each cobbler is a three hour process. She makes two, one with sour cherries picked from the tree in her front yard, the other with rhubarb from the farmer’s market. I am entranced by the child in the…
Miss Jenny Wren fluffs her feathers. She hunkers down. She makes a home. Four tiny eggs nestle within the curve of the wreath on my studio door. Her soft belly coaxes four new lives. She has knitted with twigs and stray string scraps. She has created a refuge tucked under the words faith, hope and…