Susanna deftly moved the dog leash from her right hand to her left so she could hook her elbow inside Lucy’s and walk two abreast with her down the city sidewalk; at the other end of the leash was Zippy, a plucky little Jack Russell named in homage to Dave Barry’s dog, as immortalized in … Continue reading Morning Miniature 8.21.19
writing
Morning Miniature 7.31.19
Diffuse light filtered through trees outside the bedroom window, not much of it to be sure, but Cessily positioned herself resourcefully on Claudia and Cecil’s lumpy bed so that she could use what there was of it. She grasped the little dog-eared book, a secondhand collection of rhyming stories, and tilted it so that the … Continue reading Morning Miniature 7.31.19
Morning Miniature 7.25.19
Cessily noticed the shiny grommets around the window first, and then grew interested in her own reflection, even more than she was in the passing scenery. She could see her head bobbing in tandem with every bump in the road, listened intently to the bus axles grinding beneath her. The air smelled of starched and … Continue reading Morning Miniature 7.25.19
Morning Miniature 7.17.19
She stood there peering out over the river through Bran’s plate glass windows at all the nests, arms folded defensively across her chest, wondering what kind of perils an average osprey must navigate on an average day. They seemed reasonably clever, building them the way they did on top of the channel markers, right in … Continue reading Morning Miniature 7.17.19
Morning Miniature 6.20.19
She could hear the engine missing, the unmistakable sputter of a work truck grunting up the long asphalt drive, long before she saw it. Here it came, with a camper top over the bed and a ladder on its roof, and bundles of cables and electrical cords and tools piled high in the back. Lucy … Continue reading Morning Miniature 6.20.19
Morning Miniature 6.14.19
She felt the hot tears welling up in her eyes and hated herself for them, for this juvenile, knee-jerk reaction to garden-variety bad luck. And for feeling so out of control. Where was the sense of adventure that had come all this way with her only a few short weeks ago, when feeling in control … Continue reading Morning Miniature 6.14.19
Morning Miniature 6.7.19
However many recreational boaters on the Tennessee River insist on Jimmy Buffet as their Saturday afternoon soundtrack, crooning about his blown-out flip-flop, or frozen concoctions, or tourists covered in oil, none can change the valley through which its main channel flows—nor any of its lakes, nor its kudzu-covered shorelines—into the tropics that are the centerpiece … Continue reading Morning Miniature 6.7.19
Afternoon Miniature 6.1.19
The rain stopped as abruptly as it started, and now the late morning sun poked through the clouds and beat down on the land, bringing it to a low simmer; steam rose in vaporous wisps from the ribbon of highway that passed in front of the diner. Lucy lowered the driver’s window and then palpated … Continue reading Afternoon Miniature 6.1.19
Morning Miniature 5.29.19
“I wish you were a mouser.” Charley wagged her tail enthusiastically, gazing intently at the large chunk of watermelon Lucy was about to pop inside her mouth. A trail of pinkish juice that started at her wrist now followed the contour of her arm all the way to her elbow, where it dripped onto the … Continue reading Morning Miniature 5.29.19
Travel Story: Writer with a Wanderlust
The best gift Chef David gave me this past Christmas is a beautiful little piece of non-fiction writing by John Steinbeck called Travels with Charley: In Search of America (Charley being a colorful and personable Standard Poodle). I’ve always loved me a good Steinbeck story, but ‘til now have read only his novels. Travels with … Continue reading Travel Story: Writer with a Wanderlust
