I almost cried in the French bakery today. This happened after I actually cried earlier this week over a spider. A big hairy one. Crawling out of my apron pocket.…
Author: <span>Beth Hendrickson</span>
I know two things about chipmunks. One, they allegedly store (squirrel away?, a verb, compliments of their cousin rodents) acorns for winter. Two, I do not know if the chipmunks…
“Hey. Mama. What kind of face am I making?” I look over to see eyes frozen wide and mouth gaping in a petrified grin. It’s her excited face reserved for…
I pray that they will fly, even if they’re afraid of heights. I pray that they will eat pumpkin pancakes on the first morning that feels like fall. I pray…
There’s nothing that requires patience quite like a kid four-years-old or under with shoelaces. Is it only my kid who insists on wearing her running shoes everywhere for every occasion…
We see it first accumulate far across the marsh where the bright green spartina grasses get bisected by a harsher muddy green of live oaks and pines. We see it…