By mid-February we have forgotten the taste of strawberries. We make love with bombs falling in deserts we’ll never see. This room is silent, save for the sound of our own breath. Perhaps we feel as though twilight is falling too quickly. We close our eyes and breathe into each others mouths.Read more "Winter Fruit"
I am working on my MFA creative nonfiction thesis about food foraging. I asked my father to talk about my first experiences with wild food. One of my pleasures was taking Lauren out in the backpack, walking quite long distances, and she loved to ride in the backpack. I learned to stop and grab berries […]Read more "My Father’s Perspective"