Tag Archives: Mary Oliver

The Footprint of Where You Live

I live in a Vermont town which has very little pavement. Route 14 heads north-south right through the village’s tiny center. In the village, a small amount of pavement fronts the post office, volunteer fire station, and the currently-closed general … Continue reading

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How To Write a Story….

Any writer knows a story can be told a myriad of ways. Today, visiting a school that once hovered near the brink of disintegration, I realized that school’s story could once have been told in numbers that reflected too much … Continue reading

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January Thaw & Rural Safety

When I carried out the stove ashes this morning, the air was balmy, almost sweet, redolent with that peculiar scent of woodsmoke hanging low, with traces of mud and the wetness of tree bark. The ten-year-old girls played in the … Continue reading

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Wild Gulls

In Vermont, November is a month of diminished color, the profusion of blooming gardens long since gone the way of frosty death. This afternoon, I stopped by the Hardwick reservoir, drained low. Seagulls crouched in the center, surrounded by shallow … Continue reading

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Sunflowers, My Daughters, Their Stories

I remember when I first heard the phrase “he’s one of the old ones” regarding a small child, as though some souls could harbor more depth, or a greater history, than others. Surely that’s mistaken, that our judgement is clouded … Continue reading

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We are Our Own Stories

Part of this day I spent rewriting an essay on myth, beginning: The first day of eleventh grade, my daughter returned in the afternoon, dropped her backpack on the floor and sprawled at the kitchen table, her upper lip curled … Continue reading

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Oh, Mary Oliver…

How sweet can this job be? When I arrived at the Galaxy Bookshop today, my co-worker handed me an advance reading copy and said, This is the important thing for today. You need to read this. Felicity by Mary Oliver. … Continue reading

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