I’m sick as a dog (again). My nose is running like a tap; and my head feels like a balloon has been inflated inside me, expanding under my cheeks and also between my teeth and out my eyes. My kneecaps are achy and my back is sore. I’d like to tell you that I’m miserable […]
Things have a funny way of working out sometimes. I guess what I’m trying to say is that despite the math and the calculations, I haven’t starved to death. And I haven’t missed a bill or payment. (Well, except the one month I did forget and racked up a few Hamilton’s worth of interest and
I ran into my friend at the laundromat the other day. She switched back to Tide detergent. Temporarily. With a lot of guilt and yucky feeling about it. She usually smells like a mix of sweet lavender laundry soap and patchouli and a gentle wood stove. I confessed to her that I had just bleached
Poetry at the Laundromat Read More »
As far as I know, it’s still autumn–according to the calendar. According to both the thermometer and my icy cold extremities, it’s surely winter. Which means, it’s as good a time as any to sip on the juicy sweetness of my autumn nectar list.
Summertime is, by default, my favorite season. Not necessarily because I prefer it, but because my extremities are inclined to numbness during the three other seasons. I love the heat. I love my cut-off Levi’s that are held together by a couple iron on patches and several fervent prayers. I love a sundress and being
About a month ago, I learned how to change my oil. I was very patiently taught. Very kindly guided. Tools were provided, my actions were spotted, and I was surrounded by a team of grown-up adult supporters who handed me both tools and advice as needed. A week ago, I thought I’d change some oil
My current favorite sweatshirt has a John Deer tractor on it. It’s old. It was my grandpa’s–it has his name JAMES DAVISON in black permanent marker on the inside collar. He collected tractors. I used to wear this sweater out to look at the stars when I still lived in Arkansas. It was in much
I think the stars Did Read More »
When we buried Jasper we forgot to send him with his prized possession: his rotting deer leg. No matter how far we’d throw it, he’d find it within a few days. He’d gnaw and chew and carry it with him. He’d say “just five more minutes!” when we’d pack up for the day, “I’m not
His Rotting Deer Leg Read More »
As many of you already know, we said goodbye to our farmhand, best friend, 17-time consecutive employee of the month, beloved dog Jasper. Jasper has been a part of Dear Wildflower since the very beginning–sampling green beans and melons from my first garden, hiding timidly from the lawn mower, joining happily on countless dump runs,
In as few words as possible: I struggle being by myself. But. I keep showing up. Oftentimes by myself. More often than not, with the Rat (that’s my dog, Jasper). I’d like to say how helpful the Rat is, you know, with the farm tasks. That is, unfortunately, not the case. He’s often found chasing
Come See Us at the Farmers Market Read More »