It hurried through the weeds, leaving a wake of uprooted plants. Last week I saw it scurrying through Dad’s old tools. In the spring, it briefly appeared as I planted the beans, but today it couldn’t escape. I lifted it out of the pumpkins and examined it in the sun. It was dirty; its hide well tanned, covered with scrapes. Dark patches and the blue-green tracks of veins showed through the dirt. Turning it over, I paused at the paler…..
A cloud of steam shrouds the midnight train to Zurich. From the door of the car a ray of light beckons. John slowly scans the station. Thinking the coast is clear, he walks toward the car. With each step his heart lifts. “Halfway there,” he thinks. “Just a few more feet and I’m home free.” Suddenly a man steps out of the steam, blocking John’s path. The music turns sinister. The man’s dark fedora is pulled low over one eye……
Across the ocean, far, far away, there towers a Mountain called Mt. McCray. High on the north side, up near the top, is a glacier more massive than most. On top of this glacier, warmed by the sun, the smallest of drops makes its way toward the edge, and grows ever larger with each zig and each zag. Then for the briefest of moments, it clings to the lip, quivers ever so slightly and stretches a bit. Then with a…..
Carefully Grandpa shuffled down the barn stairs, a trip he has taken countless times. He used to climb the steps two at a time, but that was a long time ago. Today his stride is measured and slow, leaning heavily on the handrail. He pauses at the bottom to catch his breath. He is in no hurry; the cow is already in the stall where she waits patiently to be milked. He pats the old girl’s neck and gives her…..
The outhouse no longer stands guard on the hill. It’s been gone for years. As have the chicken-coop and the cattle. Once the farm teemed with livestock, now all is eerily quiet. Through the eyes of a young boy, the green-shingled house was huge. Nearby the barn was painted a vivid red. Its cavernous interior a haven for life: cows, cats, mice, owls, and countless spiders and crickets. In the Barnyard stood the skeletons of better days, the hog-houses. Sheltered…..
“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.” – Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It and Other Stories ‘Tis hard to believe that it has been two months since I embarked on my latest endeavor…..
It was a beautiful day. A perfect day to play. The air was warm, the sun was bright. We ran outside our spirits light. Indeed a perfect day – well, a perfect day ‘til sister fell. The treehouse meant no harm. Yet Caroline fell upon her arm. Was she hurt? Dad couldn’t tell So, he ran to where she fell. “Caroline has a broken arm!” then he shouted with alarm. The ER’s near, about…..
It was October 11, 1968, and in the little town of Dubois, Catherine stood by the window. Every morning for weeks, she had stood by that window and watched the southern Indiana sky. Today, it was different. Today, storm clouds darkened the western sky. Catherine smiled, surely they would get some rain. It had been a long dry spell, although not as bad as in ’53. This year there had been some rain, but not nearly enough. Under Catherine’s garage,…..
Once again I climbed the stairs. A trip I have taken a thousand times. Often, like last night, in the wee hours, groggy from lack of sleep. On one such trip, while racing in the dark, I stubbed my toe. Hopping on one foot, stifling a yell, I nearly fell. That was a lifetime ago, and I was a much younger, agiler man. In contrast, last night’s quick ascent was dignified and majestic – as befits my status as the…..
With a boom that shook the walls and rattled the windows, he slammed the door. The boy stomped into the room and flopped on the couch. Grandpa shook his head and sidled over. “What’s up?” he asked, taking a seat beside the boy. The boy sighed, “It’s my research assignment; it’s too big. I’ll never get it done!” “Why not?” With a teenage eye roll, the boy tried to explain; there were too many references, too many quotes, and too…..