The snow stretched on for ages, but it didn’t matter in that moment because there was death on the horizon and death is worse than the blistering cold. If you are ever chilled to the bone, be still of mind, be grateful, because you know that you are still alive…you are able to feel it. This is a blessing...this is from the Wolpertinger Code.
Many years later, as he lay on the deck of his boat, Patrick remembered the day he got him. Rembrandt was a German Shorthaired Pointer and was dappled brown. Exceptionally strong and energetic, he needed lots of exercise.
The Easter season began and Grandmama was selling off our belongings. Our sleepy Iowa town sold corn and gossip by the bushel but didn’t have a lot of room for old jazz musicians like Grandmama was. It was the 1950’s.
Rescuing fireflies took all evening. After finishing my summer reading, I ran through the fields and the long grasses whipped at my legs. I didn’t care about the welts. I got on my four-wheeler and rode back into the remote corners of the woods where there were barely pathways and opened my jars, being sure to cup my hand over the openings. I collected fireflies for hours in larger jars with oxygen holes. The jars were the kind you filled up to water big dogs. My mom boarded animals for a living on our tiny farm, where our happiness used to reside.
"Cinnamon and spice, say everything thrice..."
