We head east, past the field, past the house. Dennis leads the way. Turk’s a buckskin, part American Saddlebred. I follow on Lady, his part-Shetland strawberry roan. She’s my age, and I think she’s jealous. She limps. And swings her head around to nip at my feet. I call ahead. I think she’s hurt. […]
Window on Writing: Not Writing
(“weeds” from the not-yet-tilled garden) She wrote it on the back–66.11. That’s how much I had left on my Barnes & Noble gift card (one of them, anyway) after I bought a tomato caprese sandwich and a glass of iced green tea. My son keeps me well stocked with B&N gift cards. I stopped in […]
