Tag Archives: Basho

Frog Chorus

I hate it when my daughters bicker. Stop, stop, stop, I demand. Are you listening to yourselves? They look at me oddly, and insist, This isn’t fighting, mom. Recently, I’ve been forcing myself to close my eyes and simply listen to the … Continue reading

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Autumn Dusk

With no snow, our late autumn Vermont appears like coals burned out, none of our summer’s radiance, our snowy luminosity. This afternoon, not yet four, with the light already leaking away, I lay down in my daughter’s forest lair, dead … Continue reading

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November 2015

Vermont Public Radio and my teenager and so many questions, questions: what does this mean? Why did this happen? So many questions and I have no answers, merely: think of this bit of information, and that geography matters, history matters, … Continue reading

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How Things Spiral: the Crabby Woman’s Garden Entry

Today: by late afternoon, a day of complete frustration. Early at my laptop, I rewrote pages that made no sense, spelled specify wrong, sent an angry email to an innocent person I had to balefully retract, became enraged over a request … Continue reading

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Blossoms v. Trash

Many years ago, when we took my younger daughter to the ocean for the first time, she had one question. She was barely three, and such a little girl her older sister often carried her. Driving to Maine, we described … Continue reading

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Both Tool and Weapon

We must be gleaners from what life has set before us. — Elizabeth Alexander, The Light of the World From the garden, I gleaned a basket of spinach, cooked it with garlic and tamari, and ate it with my older daughter. … Continue reading

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