As Winter Storm Izzy whirls through the greater region, with its glaze and spit and powder, a dream of summer comes to me. Meet me there, if you’d like, with poet Mary Ruefle, in my mother’s backyard… Mary Ruefle is…
In the hush and glory of this week’s snow, I worry about the boxwoods. Their burdened boughs bend to extremes. De-formed, the bushes no longer resemble themselves. Wretched and wrecked, they need some relief, and soon. And yet – each moment,…
A bee in winter travels into the new year finds open flower * * * Happy New Year, friends! I took an online haiku class this fall through St. Mary’s Sewanee. You might want to check out their offerings for…