Sooo ( Read more... )

For those of you who may be laboring under the misconception that I am some sort of genius, I offer the following account of my day ( Read more... )

So ( Read more... )

Normally, I'd give all these a separate entry, but I'm feeling profoundly lazy, and may not be at the computer again all day, so, here you go. Big, indigestible chunks of weirdness.

Mandolin ManTrue story. Seen in the rear passenger side seat of a four-door sedan, late Thursday evening outside of QuikTrip ( Read more... )

I'm sitting on my bed today, trying to have a serious conversation with my husband, when Fish comes in ( Read more... )

It begins in a month I don't remember, like it does every year. This year I am no older than seven. It is April, maybe. Or May. Whenever the rains first come ( Read more... )

I don't get nostalgic often, but this time of year is when it tends to happen. Cope ( Read more... )

Morning brings the first day of clear sun we've had yet this November. I open the curtains and the backyard has turned into a shower of riches. Our trees have dropped half their leaves already, and the morning sun turns them to pure gold, their soft undersides shining like moon-silver. The rosebush in the wild front garden has put out a final ( Read more... )

I watch people all the time. It comes from being an artist and a writer and a lover of animals . . . people fascinate me on all these levels. My weekly lunch out is my favorite time to "collect" interesting folks. My mother does it in watercolor. I do it in words. I'll share some with you now ( Read more... )

Every year at about this time, my family would pile into the jeep and make a pilgrimage to Carmichael's Produce. In the barn, bushel baskets of potatoes, yams, and okra stood alongside whole tables full of seasonal fruit, mostly apples still dusty from the trees, and peaches, their smell drunkenly thick. A real cider press rolled out dark, cloudy ( Read more... )