My youngest builds and destroys all day long. He constructs block castles, then topples them over. He erects forts in the yard with two-by-fours and plywood, then tears them apart. He lives in leaps and rolls, tumbling through life as a young spymaster with his trigger finger cocked and his conversation peppered with explosions. Thankfully, [...]
To counter a week devoted to a single meal, I return from the grocery store with bags overflowing with vegetables: kale and yams, cauliflower, broccoli and swiss chard, a bag of pretty potatoes all purple, red and white, a hefty butternut squash. Instead of stuffing them into the refrigerator where they’ll grow pale and weak [...]
God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night. These are the words we dimly here: You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me. Flare up like a flame and make big shadows I can move in. Let [...]
(n.) the prediction of future events from observation of weather conditions Pronunciation | air-uh-man-see Origin | Middle-English My days are built around the assumption of rain. It’s the scaffolding from which I hang the jackets and galoshes that drip puddles onto the floor. It’s a near constant, like the morning bickering and my afternoon tea, and as [...]
May the night be yours. -Rachael
Outside my window a small tree bends in the wind. A crow alights in the yard where the marigolds glow like embers against the wet dirt. Across the street a house is suspended in air as a basement is dug beneath it. I collect the owner’s unwanted bricks to line my garden. I’ve dug up [...]
I sweep shadows. A small galaxy of dust spins overhead as spiders skitter across the concrete. They’re sketched from pencil and fade into invisibility. It’s easier to spot their shadows than their corporeal selves. And I marvel at the air around my feet, which flickers, not from waning sunlight, but from their frightened dance.
A snipped summation Of summer’s cessation: A sweater knitted. Hurray, it fitted! Timed to the temp’s recalibration. Near completion three years later.
Five things I’m loving and laughing over, lately: (1) My teen-age chef turned 14. (2) Ad copy on the back of the Old Spice label. Content “contains odor-fighting ‘atomic robots’ that ‘shoot lasers’ at your ‘stench monsters’ and replaces them with fresh, clean, masculine ‘scent elves.’ ” (3) Flannery O’Connor responds to an English professor, [...]