By:
On:
In: Fiction, Religion
With: 0 Comments

I had to pry the details from her that night, like gently loosening rusted hinges on an ancient door. She kept dodging my questions as if something compelled her to keep the whole ordeal buried deep. But after a few hours she came out with most everything. Or at least with everything I will ever know . . . Continue Reading

By:
On:
In: Canning & Recipes, Nonfiction, Way Back When
With: 2 Comments

My husband, imported from the Midwest, corrects me every time I call them stove eyes—he calls them burners—but we’re not cooking on gas and we’re in the South, my South, and I’ve always heard them called eyes and continue to do so. I grab a large-mouthed funnel, place it in a wide-mouthed jar, and . . . Continue Reading

By:
On:
In: Fiction, Storytelling
With: 0 Comments

Anyways, when Mr. Hawkins-Mills arrived on their back porch that day, he was carrying a heavy block of ice to put in her icebox. With the sun still high in the sky, that ice just kept right on dripping all over the place. Mr. Hawkins-Mills slipped on the wet floorboards, and his ice pick . . . Continue Reading