A spring morning much like others, some daffodils rain-beaten, some perked. Daphne’s lemony fragrance when near enough. The outdoor little library bookcase at the neighbor’s frames the same mythologies, travel guides, and who-dun-its that got us through winter’s downpours. At the abandoned school, morning changes. A man rakes the baseball diamond, listening on earphones that […]Read more "Kindling"
Daniel Fitzpatrick grew up in New Orleans and now lives in Hot Springs, Arkansas, with his wife and daughter. He studied Philosophy at the University of Dallas and his poems have appeared or are forthcoming in several journals, including 2River View, Amaryllis, Panoply, Eunoia Review, Ink in Thirds, and Coe Review. He plans to finish his first […]Read more "Phil of Art"
Day 88. Almost like spring. #100daysofdepression A post shared by Lauren Hudgins (@laurenhudgins) on Feb 13, 2015 at 2:22pm PST Spring has come early to Portland. My garden is full of daffodils and crocuses. The magenta magnolia in front of the house is blooming its deep purple cup flowers. I have planted snap peas outside […]Read more "#100DaysofDepression Are Over"
One at a time, I diligently pulled the push pins out of the sides of my cubicle walls. I was revered in this office for the colors and personality that my tiny space contained. Photos of my family and friends, doodles and drawings, flowers perpetually perched on my desk. Figurines, model cars, books, lamp light […]Read more "Human Resources"
She never hails me friendly over the fence, it is always a conspiracy. She clucks my name quietly from her garden like a secret, her tight curly hair, a dark comb and cape. “Can you hear the boys crowing?” she asks, a pained apology in her eyes. “I didn’t know what they were, but now […]Read more "nested"
It’s officially spring and spring means green things. John Kallas’s Edible Wild Plants has been very helpful in identifying a few tasty greens available at this time in the Pacific NW. The one I eat most often is chickweed, because it’s the most plentiful. I’ve even got a rich patch of chickweed about a block […]Read more "The Salad Days"
My grandma would have been 88 on St. Patrick’s Day. She passed the summer before last, just before I moved to Portland. I’d said goodbye to her while she was still in the hospital, waiting to go home where my mom and hospice nurses her would tend to her for her final month. The last time […]Read more "The Noble Saint"
When I was in middle school, my hobby was writing terrible historical fiction. There was the time-traveling doomed romance on the Titanic, and the Oregon Trail epic with no plot. But the tale I thought was going to change the American literature landscape was my revolutionary war novel, Eliza Jane. Eliza became a spy for […]Read more "Eliza in Spring"