Patience, My Dogwood

Patience, My Dogwood

Our dogwood has finally bloomed. She withstood the travails of flood, drought and blizzard, and constant cropping by deer, and this spring she blossomed, like some insecure girl crossing that seemingly impassable divide between challenged childhood and blessed...

Goodnight, Irene

She came and she went. We spent several days with ear cocked to the weather reports, doing this and that to prepare for assault on our sovereign territory. I excavated white river stones where they had become embedded in dirt washed down from above, added a wide and...