Category Tracey

Autumn

I watch the fast-changing light, play with the pigments on my pallete, mixing a little more ivory with the yellow, trying to get the tint just right to record this moment

Hush

Murgatroid the Cat and I slip from the bed, careful not to wake Cheyenne. It is dark, still, and even the birds are silent, though dawn can’t be long in coming. Murg pads silently through the open door to the screened porch. I follow, wrapping my sweatshirt-soft kimono tightly to keep in the bed-warmth. The […]

Sena

Sena’s shoulders are high and rigid. She runs a hand through her nappy hair for the umpteenth time and clenches and unclenches her jaw, but her eyes sparkle and her voice is full of mirth.

Solace

Sometimes Bonnie picked an older child, or one of the adults. She would have no one but the one she ambled to when she saw the milkers coming. She would step close to her mark and shove her nose into their armpit.

Rain

We’re making daub to finish Peter and Livia’s cob house. I step in gingerly. I have to warm up to the idea of muddy feet. But then it feels so good–gritty, cool, squirting between my toes.

Gifts

Janine has woven the greens, browns, and yellows of the hills, the muted colors of the woods on one side, and the brilliant splotches of the flowering meadows in front. I can smell the rich moldy soil of the woods underfoot and the crisp drying grasses in the summer heat.

Apology

The lunch gong sounds. I clean and put away my tools, wash up, and head for the dining room. The teen orchestra are tuning their instruments as I wait in line with Merilee. We will have a concert today!