The Gifts of Mercury Retrograde

I like to think of August as that languid month before September where I can grab the last of the summertime, savoring the sweet corn and juicy tomatoes and viewing my garden so heavy and ripe with gorgeous flowers and watching the newborn chicks hop out of the various nests hidden everywhere around my house.…

A Really Good Hurt

Just before she died, my mom and I had a conversation about my childhood and how I did not want anyone to get too close to me, especially to hug me or hold me. I was apparently a squirmy little worm, especially when my Aunty Rossa (always doused in too much perfume and hairspray) would…