A Purification by Wendell Berry At the start of spring I open a trench in the ground. I put into it the winter’s accumulation of paper, pages I do not want to read again, useless words, fragments, errors. And I put into it the contents of the outhouse: light of...
It began with open space. Maybe, that’s how all things begin. All good things, that is. And, it began with need which, so often, provides fertile ground for creativity to take root. This is what I remembered as I sifted back through layers of...
I returned home from the God’s Whisper Writing Retreat in Virginia last Sunday, driving my husband’s rattly old pickup truck through four hours of heat and humidity. The truck lacks AC and I swear it was hotter inside the cab than out. By the...
At the end of the day two cats sit in the window, sunset facing, while my husband walks the trash to the curb. Two fresh bodies are tucked into bed. Two still-dirty ones stretch the last minutes of daylight in the yard. There was some discussion this...
Wherever there is stillness there is the still small voice, God’s speaking from the whirlwind, nature’s old song and dance . . . – Annie Dillard, Teaching a Stone to Speak Five months pregnant with twins, I waddled up a narrow, rocky path. I was...
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