The Edge of Everything

I go to the woods, the forest, the place where trees grow.    I go there to find the leaves of maple trees.  The trees are tightly spaced, and the leaves packed between the tangled tree roots.  What should I do with that?  Make a metaphor?  Pretend I know what I’m talking about? I go to the maples,…

A Summer Journey

Why is what I  wonder as I lay in bed. Why are we in a hostel in British Columbia? This was nowhere in the plan really. Canada had been a vague idea, somewhere along the realm of something we couldn’t possibly fit in. We had thrown the passports in the glove compartment just in case….

Summer

These days are golden. Or that’s what I tell myself as we head to the river. It’s what I told myself in June or May even, before school was out, the day we drive down to the bay to buy oysters. The day we sit in sunshine and eat cinnamon rolls in the afternoon for…