March 2022

Pitchforks

What can I do with my 67-year-old clay? Restore the wild thing in my core? No. Not precisely. What my heart desires is to fix the five rusty pitchforks with no handles that live in the shed. and also the mattock and the heavy garden fork that predates my marriage, (that was a presage to…

Scars Never Forgive

Walking down to the barn to check on our last ewe to lamb this season. Looking up. Full moon. Clear. Dark. Looking down. My flashlight shears through the hoarfrost grass. Revealing. There it is, an original sin. A pair of cuts running north-south across the pasture. They are plow lines or, rather, the scars of…