Category Ruby
Tomatoes
I nip into the skin, peeling it back a bit with my teeth so as not to lose a drop of the juice to the ground, then sink into a big bite. Still it spurts. I suck quickly to get as much of the juice as possible, slurping unabashedly. Read more …
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“Can anyone tell me why we compost yard trimmings?” Hand high in the air, fingers splayed, Nell mouths, “Pick me, pick me!” “Yes, Nell.” She sits taller, chin up, shoulders back, eyes sparkling. “So all the good stuff in the leaves and branches can turn into dirt.” She fairly spits the last word, clearly enjoying […]
Xianne
“I remember the day you were born,” I tell Xianne. “Your mama was sipping broth in the morning when Ruby and I, baskets full of raspberries and herbs, came by to wait with the women for you to pop out.” We’ve walked the twelve miles to Central Village—Ruby, Cheyenne and I. Several other friends from […]
Wings
“We’re thinking of trying again.” Balboa says this quietly, without looking up from the bridge of blocks and books she is helping five-year-old Linnea and six-year-old Tommy build across the imaginary River Blue, named for Balboa’s sky-blue scarf meandering across the nursery floor. At breakfast, Ruby said she needed to gather herbs today. Alone. She […]
Balboa
How is it women of the village know to come? But they do, one by one, to sit with Balboa, with our memories of her childhood, moments of laughter and tears. We breathe. We are present, witness to her grief, sharing her sorrow.
Mira
Packer cut the log in half lengthwise and hollowed out the pith, then lined it with beautiful green and gray mosses. He must have climbed very high in the trees to get so much clean, new moss.
Moon
We are miles from the Village–Janine, Sena, Cheyenne, Ruby, Merilee, Betty, and I–on our first campout of the season. Minimalists, we sleep on bare ground, our bags zippered close for warmth, thick trampled grasses beneath for cushion.
Babies
It is a gorgeous, sunny day in the nursery. Gauzy white curtains flutter at the screened sills. The windows across the western wall are thrown open, letting the spring breezes through–as well as the scents of fresh laundry flapping on the lines and apple pie baking in the kitchens.
Threads
As we left, Lotty and I strung a garland of wild asters and daisies across the door, to be removed only by the bride and groom on the morrow, when they enter to spend their first night in their new home.
Waterfall
Across the meadow, and round a huge outcrop of granite, we heard the upper falls before we saw them–two high ribbons, one far above the other, glistening water cascading down a sharp escarpment.
Village of Ordinary 