My Brush with Sticky Tree Stuff

Let me start off by saying cancer of any kind is a serious matter.  I am making fun of myself, not a horrid disease.   I have been getting a month’s worth of sunshine during the hours before the temperature becomes unbearable.  The rest of the year I spend steadily growing whiter.    I was…… Continue reading My Brush with Sticky Tree Stuff

Flowers–Pretty and Poison

I am glad to see summer.  My north garden has recovered from a bit of transplant shock.  Some of my flowers come back every year.  In 1998 I worked hard all summer removing pesky weeds.  Just to see what they would become, I let a few grow and they turned into Columbines.  The White Nancy…… Continue reading Flowers–Pretty and Poison

Flash Fiction – Momma stopped singing on a sweat-sticky day.

The pump handle gives too easy, Tommy scoops some water from the bucket to prime it. Resistance is sweet, cool, Tommy lets the first stream of water pour over his hand and wipes his face, tasting a faint metallic edge. The second pump fills the pitcher half way up. “Comin’,” Tommy yells. Uncle Ed has been miserable all summer long.