Funny how my brain hangs onto insignificant memories. One of these moments took place on a covered, concrete porch in the country, miles from anywhere. A thermometer dangled on a nail and read 98*, not unusual for a summer afternoon in South Texas. Four of us sat in folding lawn chairs under the porch’s shade. …
I gather flotsam into a pile, and hurry to drop them in my bedroom. Back to the kitchen, a stray glass waits for the dishwasher and the floor begs another sweep. The clock taps its fingers, ticking down the minutes until company arrives. The doorbell rings. “Come in, come in. So good to see you. …
As I sit on the porch before my day takes off, a Carolina wren flits from the potted avocado tree to the rim of the bird bath. Her tail, always cocked at a perky angle, strikes my funny bone. She hops this way and that until she’s comfortable with her surroundings before dipping into the …
I relax into a beach chair while in the water my husband straddles a surfboard waiting for waves. The beach and the floor of the gulf in our region are formed with sand as white as snow, making the water an aqua hue worthy of a postcard. A squadron of five pelicans glide in a …