Claudia Freeman married young and resigned herself to a life of child rearing and servitude. She was a buxom woman by her late thirties, not at all corpulent, and her hands by then already betrayed expertise in occupations domestic and horticultural. She could remove a sheet pan from a hot oven with a threadbare mitt … Continue reading Morning Miniature 9.13.19

At the same moment summer dug in its heels in earnest, Lucy’s running water was restored, and that is to say, not a moment too soon. The massive hardwoods towering over Bran’s little cottage overflowed with mid-season foliage in a lush and shadowy green, but elsewhere a few dogwoods disclosed the slightest blush of color … Continue reading Morning Miniature 8.30.19

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

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

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

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

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