Creative Nonfiction by Andrea Badgley
I awoke at 4:45am to my alarm and the sound of rain lashing against the windows. The kids’ school was on a 2-hour delay due to heavy rain and potential flooding, but our daughter’s swim practice was still on for 5:30. The last thing I wanted to do was get out of bed to drive … Continue reading Flex Day Flood Day
It’s been unseasonably warm the past few days, with highs in the 50s instead of the 30s we’d normally expect in February. Last night, before going to sleep, my husband opened our bedroom window. Just a few inches, but enough to let in a balmy rush of fresh air. My god it smelled good. After … Continue reading Sleeping with the window open
Midmorning yesterday, my husband was restless. He wanted to get out of the house. “I think I want to go for a hike. You want to come?” I had just been thinking about how lately I’ve been reading stories more than I’ve been getting out in the world and experiencing life. “Yes, I just need … Continue reading A spontaneous winter hike to a waterfall
Today is my day off from working last Sunday. I had expected it to be a quiet day at home with the house to myself. Maybe I’d write. Maybe I’d read. I didn’t really have any plans. But I did think I’d be at home alone. It turns out, I’m not! In fact, everyone is … Continue reading How to spend a snow day
The landscape is grey and brown. The sky is heavy with stone clouds. Bare branches are wet with fog and rain. My poor garden, vibrant in summer, is sharp with plant skeletons, crinkly with copper oak leaves, and lifeless. Winter gets harder to bear every year. The holidays are over, and I’m ready for winter … Continue reading Pinpricks of light in winter
The temperatures have finally dropped to match the season. We were getting August temperatures clear through the end of September. It was so hot our plants were wilting every day under the relentless rays of the sun, even when I watered them. The ground was parched from more than two months without rain, and the … Continue reading It’s useless to resist the inevitable
