Tiny brown beads sizzle in my non-stick pan, slowly enlarging. I stick my nose closer to get a whiff of the mustard seeds I’m pickling for the first time…ever. Until this Monday eve, I’ve put pickling anything into the category of too difficult/advanced for the type of cook that I am. I tend to the … More Quality Time with my Apron
Year one: survival. Year two: comfort, security. Year three: change it all.
A morning solo, the wind my favorite partner– Monday morn defined.
Gears shift, up, down park, drive, neutral, drive, park apparitions coast over, under click, clack, squeal, click, clack and I I’m still here A lil’ new, a lil’ old, a lot whole no more parts surfing on wind-threads no more slices trampled at every turn no more edges scraping tin-walls no I I’m here.
Cevan stands at the foot of the cascading staircase; head tilted up Its ivory steps and mahogany banister spiral toward, glowing new; shimmering posibilities Pristine He squints, looking at the top, knows there’s only one way to get there Still, old memories haunt him, pinning him to the floor Can he take the same staircase, … More Ivory Glass
She kneels on one leg and ties those purple laces, the shoes she’s been longing to slide into for over a month, the right laces are pulled loose to fit the then swollen foot and brace, but today she pulls them tight, runs her fingers over the ankle testing the tendons, wondering have they fused … More First Run
Her eyes narrow behind sunglasses, she tilts those shades up as she picks one– sniffs deep for the right scent: sweet, ripe tests its firmess and coloring, twirling it in her palms– A master inspector, talented by her unusually keen senses that never disappoint others covet her for she only bites perfection… Everytime, tossing aside … More Huntress of the Tropics