This may seem disjointed; that's simply the way things are. My friend Harriet, the Harriet who is very much alive, is a quilter. She sews the most beautiful quilts (and other things, too) and has the best sewing adventures to tell, stories I would share except that they are hers and not mine. I mention … Continue reading The living and the dead.
"Women - particularly Southern women - can't really come into their voices until they lose their mothers," a writer friend said to me recently over lunch. This particular friend, who also was around 40 when she lost her mother and with whom I often discuss mothers and mothering, is the same friend who said, "you … Continue reading Materfamilias.
It was Ella, and not I, who first fell in love with Bernard. It happened this way: We were walking along the snowy trail next to the Snake River, in January, a few months after we met. Bernard was throwing sticks for Ella to retrieve. She was a puppy, full of energy and mischief. She … Continue reading Of dogs and men.
