“That’s North, That’s Montana,” She Said.

In the early afternoon on Monday of the third week, Jordan Wilmerton rode up beside the wagon and said, “Well, Amanda, you are headed back to the States now.” “The States are East, Mr. Wilmerton,” she grinned at him. “That’s North. That’s Montana.” Montana had been a destination now for nearly a month. Montana, and … Continue reading “That’s North, That’s Montana,” She Said. →

Cora Doesn’t Find What She was Looking For

When Cora Greenfline turned away under that heavy sun, she turned away forever. What she turned away from was what she had not found, and what it told her of what she thought she was looking for. As it turned out all there had been were two gaudily painted toy-like engines facing each other, as … Continue reading Cora Doesn’t Find What She was Looking For →

Payday for a Bum

Grechen counted four fifties, four twenties, and ten ones out of her till, then counted them again, snapping them, quick fast, on the counter. She picked up the bundle, snapped it edge down on the counter to even the edges and put into an envelope and handed the envelope to me. “Five hundred dollars,” she … Continue reading Payday for a Bum →

Ruthless Is the Gardener

Today my chore— the damned invader weeds! But o, mustard's yellow?! I know it's a stretch, but think of it this way: a gardener deciding not to pull the yellow mustard sets a precedent. A lovely one but one that could be unpopular?

When Daddy Drinks the Laundry

Mother Mary sat quietly in the sunshine across the street from Olivia’s. It did me good to see her in the spring sun. A lot of people were walking past, and Mother sat quietly in the spring sun, her faded blue denim shirt open for the sun on her throat, and her orange and blue … Continue reading When Daddy Drinks the Laundry →

Frog Pond Haiku

When I pass a still pond of water, especially during the spring when the Frogs are sounding, I think of Basho's poem Old pond frog jump in plop I have not read it in the original Japanese--cannot is more accurate--but have read that in the Japanese the poem is such an onomatopoeic poem that sound … Continue reading Frog Pond Haiku →

Barrel Racing in the Garden of Eden

“Some say there were unicorns, and there is a song about that. And some say there was alligators the size of Winnebagoes. This was long before Winnebagoes, you understand. Or Cathedrals for that matter. Which’re smaller than the average size boat at the time, apparently. “But I have my doubts about the unicorns. There was … Continue reading Barrel Racing in the Garden of Eden →

Cataract Surgery

I begin to see with new eyes— the scales have been scraped away, all the yellow, all the scum— how bright the grass with new eyes— a greener shade of winter yellow— with the scales scoured away. How brilliant Kathy’s eyes their lively green unochered through my new unblistered lens. I begin to see with … Continue reading Cataract Surgery →

Mosquito

Arrant noise, gnaty lancer, gory glut, dodgy dancer, swatted not. Another from the archives.

In the Morning We Did Not Take It.

“We’ll take it in the morning,” the Colonel said. He stood in the trench and periscoped over the rampart. Shells exploded out on the wasteland between his revetments and the bastion city. There were prone figures out there, some moving a bit. Some not, some in bloody pools. In the morning we did not take … Continue reading In the Morning We Did Not Take It. →