When I was a child, the school bus would stop at our house in the country before the morning had barely begun to stir. During the cold months, while waiting for the bus to arrive, my breath would exit my mouth like fog. I didn’t want to miss the bus, yet neither did I want [...]
I drove down ochre dirt roads, sometimes tinged with Indian red, the roads sandwiched between deep ditches, and turned off one country road onto another, again and again, intending to travel as deep in the countryside as possible. Tired of being shut in the house, tired of writing and staring at a computer screen, I [...]
Mrs. Miller asks me what I believe in. Just like that. No warning. Out of the blue, the slim woman with dark coffee-colored skin tosses the subject of spiritual beliefs between us, tosses it between the cemetery where she stands and the edge of the woods near me. I’ve been searching in the wooded [...]
I was at Martha’s Vineyard a few weeks ago when my phone rang. Emory Tucker, my father’s first cousin, was on the other end. “Brenda! Where are you, girl? I’ve got another place to show you where you’ll find some old graves,” he said, his voice booming, softened around the edges. Emory knows I’ve been [...]
The ferry chugged from the mainland toward Martha’s Vineyard. Seduced by a cool breeze and sunlight refracting off the water, I stood on the deck, facing my destination, blurry and indistinct in the distance. A dozen hues of blue draped the sky. Leaning against the guardrail, memories stirred in me, resurrecting the thrill that used [...]
Twelve years ago, I persuaded my husband to plant a hydrangea in the garden. When I married him, a gardener of amazing skills with a deep appreciation for the beauty of a diverse garden, he grew plants flaunting texture, shape, and color. Yet marriage often taps into the creative juices of newlyweds who have [...]
If you read my posts, you know I’m writing my second novel, and you know I enjoy searching for forgotten graves. It’s what I do. I have to stop writing at times to go exploring. If not, I'll go stir crazy. Last week, though my husband seldom accompanies me on my explorations, he decided to [...]
In the 60s and 70s, as a young girl, I ran barefoot through the hot soil of plowed fields and along dirt roads that led to blackberries. At the end of the day, darkness settled and fireflies came out of hiding to dance and put on a show. Life was simple and beautiful and carried [...]
I wrote this post about a year before my mother died. My mother has lived under a cloud of bad luck lately. Presently, she’s recovering from a broken hip and a fractured pelvis. “First I got stuck in the elevator,” Mama said, “then I broke my hip.” She giggled like a school girl. “I think [...]
Years ago, after my husband’s granddaughter was born, we went shopping for a gift. My husband, knowing little about baby clothes, stayed in Books-A-Million while I went to look at baby clothes. In Baby Gap, I heard a small voice say, "Mama, I want a Harry Potter wand that really works." Following the sound of the [...]
Brenda Sutton Rose 