I remember boiled peanuts; I remember them from the barrier islands of Georgia. On hot Saturdays in summer, my family loaded our boat with beach chairs, coolers, canvas tote bags filled with towels, Doritos, and Mom’s chocolate chip cookies, and we motored off across the rippled brown water of tidal rivers. Crusted salt glittered on … Continue reading I remember boiled peanuts
On a highway called A1A, the one you’ve heard about in Jimmy Buffet songs, that ribbon of road that hugs the Atlantic Ocean on Florida’s east coast, somewhere between Little Torch Key and Key West, in that 24 mile stretch of road, there is a stairway that climbs into sky. I remember that stairway, emerging … Continue reading Up the winding stair
In the antique store on the corner of Franklin and Main, among cut glass candy dishes and earthenware moonshine jugs, were rolling pins. Wooden, dinged, well-used. In each room they were stashed in groups of three or four, standing on end in a tin bucket, or displayed like vintage wines on an iron rack. Their … Continue reading Old rolling pins
The kitchen floor was cold under my bare feet this morning. I’m shivering in my PJ’s – a white tank top and thin, flowery pants. I had to close a window to minimize the chill while I write, and I considered going back upstairs for my slippers. Today is July 29. The kids and I … Continue reading Ephemera
I can never capture on film the beauty of light in a forest, shining through the canopy onto a single fern, a pebble, a droplet falling through air from a waterfall. I like to tell myself it’s not that I lack the skill (I do), but because the beauty is bigger than the light, more … Continue reading Thoughts from an emerald forest
Butterfly Mind 