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Letter 2
I used to dream of gardens drunk on honeybees; lavender and rosemary and shocking red geraniums, their blossoms meeting the sun; of veggies grown thick and tall, ready to nourish the bellies of those in need. Peppery nasturtium leaves, sweet plump berries, fingers stained with juice, crunchy green sugar snap peas and marigold flowers remembering… — read more
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Letter One…
A difficult woman finds her voice in periods of silence. I don’t mean when people try to break her or stop her from being her true self. It is the silence before everyone wakes or when they have gone to bed. When your shoulders drop from the responsibilities placed on you. It is the quiet,… — read more