The way I met Calhoun, I was sitting in the bar, the only bar we have in town. At the...
It was Christmas Eve with the circle of advent candles burning low in a pool of wax when Cee left...
Darkroom The past would seem to exist beneath a red light behind a door seldom opened save to revisit photographs...
I Confess I’ve resorted to murder, here in my kitchen filled with basil, bee balm and thronging castes of blue-black...
My favorite inheritance is the green toy metal shovel. Also, the elfin-like ski-toed leather booties. Also, the pair of snowshoes,...
This old house is not old at all; it only feels this way. The online pictures that grabbed my attention...
I used to tell myself that it was the August heat that drew me away from that tarmacadam road and into the...
“Bucolia” was shortlisted for the 2024 Best in Rural Writing Contest by judge Dr. Chea Parton. Learn more about the...
One Joe Dell, sitting on a basswood stump, looked at the dirty handkerchief, now bloody, that he had wrapped just...
It was the second day that Kate and her father walked beans. They had been out since seven a.m. to...
Adam clutches the rim of his Canadian Club and 7-Up, working the room of fellow farmers while I grip the...
My Mother Considers Her Callows Farm From a parlour window I see sunlight creeping across the fields, and how some...