Wild child

May 13, 2011
We’re waking up in the morning, a tangled mess of legs and sheets and frantic cries for milk.  She suckles and we lay in silence listening to the neighbor’s rooster and she twirls her hair around her finger and smiles coyly →MORE...

May 12, 2011
Charlotte and I are elbow-deep in a pit, looking at zucchini roots and trying to figure out what sort of pest, EXACTLY, has been having our squash for lunch, and suddenly there he is.  Hi, Wyatt, I say.  Hi there, he →MORE...

This was the third year that I celebrated Mother’s Day as a mother or a mother-to-be.  It was pretty awesome.  Flowers.  Omelets.  Mulberries.  Family pictures.  Cards.  Sweet pea seeds.  Hugs.  Gardening.  Laughter.  Phone calls from friends.  Jokes with my grandmother.  Tortillas →MORE...

I felt the predator before anything else.  I felt fear.  Maybe it was a smell that I could not consciously register or a sound that I didn’t quite overlook or a sight at the end of my visual range…or maybe it →MORE...