I was relieved that by the time my turn in line was up, it was Marie at the cash register, at Aubuchon's…

Sleeping in is not my thing, but I think I slept a little extra this morning, in my dreams avoiding the possibility upon waking, that my electricity would be gone…

I'm out to shovel at 7 am, my heart set on making a dump run…

She left her mittens in my kitchen, not intentionally, and only after depositing a box there as well - a birthday present…

As I enter the gas station market, I know immediately some guy will be sitting there, legs splayed, hand wrapped around a styrofoam cup, just staring at whatever walks in…

They didn’t mean to, but they broke the glass …

I feel the crack, then hear it ... see the results of my strike, the blow sending fragments in opposite directions, almost as an afterthought. I've practiced the move…

I don't know what you see when you look at this photo, but I see a broken generator, a truck without snow tires, a pile of lumber's been sitting in the driveway for over a year, 4 cords of seasoned firewood tarps blown off in a bad way, gardening tools frozen in place, & two wood sheds didn't get built…

We met on the job, in Quechee VT; he was the on-site restoration carpenter, & we were the new gardeners…

Yesterday's thermos of tea, a mix of throat comfort, ginger & tumeric is still there for me today, & still warm…

Sometimes our most important discussions occur in the woods, or off site, certainly not on T.V. or social media…

I sat near the wood stove, straddling the old bench seat, backside warming, as what we call the winter sun blazed out, behind a highway of darkening hills…

She'd bought four peonies, two the same, one to go down by the brook, the rest, she said, to be placed according to my eye…

Back on the patio job today …

"Yeah, they've been selling like hotcakes, not sure why" she quipped, totaling up my bill for peat moss, stove gasket & a pair of navy blue suspenders…

From where I lie on my side, I can see the shadowy underbelly of a boxwood shrub, its damp, brittle branches touching a mulch of its own making…

As the brilliant days of October darken, every pink, or purple left in the garden sharpens, to a heart-wrenching point…

Bending to popular demand, my father would sometimes find himself in MacDonald's, awkwardly jingling the change in his pockets, which was a sign of his discomfort…

“Mostly, they're just selling books to each other", said an anonymous source, when asked about the Antiquarian Book Sellers, whose brochure I was fondling…

He pulled in, his trailer hitched to his Subaru, a familiar, welcome sight…