Cathedral of Leaves Summer is here, and I don’t want to leave my porch. Steeped in slow heat, I sit and let my thoughts unspool, watching the smoke from my burnt offerings tell stories in the sunlight— backlit leaves like stained glass windows. A jay squawks and time stands still . . . I become […]Read more "Cathedral of Leaves"
Nuclear Winter My grandmother told stories of smoke and smudge to save her navel orange groves in a Florida freeze. Sometimes her work failed. Then each Christmas she shipped a crate of oranges so thin-skinned they had to arrive fast. Fruit so flame-y orange we fell in love with hand-squeezing, licked juice from our fingers. […]Read more "Nuclear Winter"