Trebbe Johnson
I. Wildflowers Such color, such petal-work on the trail behind our village: Queen Anne’s lace, daisies, goldenrod, wild pea, purple vetch, thistle, meadowsweet—I gather them, remembrance of splendor, to bring home Continue reading →
I GREW UP IN THE NO NUKES ERA, first dragged to protests by my hippie parents, then attending by my own volition. If you’d asked me in the 1980s what I Continue reading →
ANTS INVADED OUR HOUSE. Our first summer in Baltimore. The first year of our marriage—your only marriage, my second one—when my kid became our kid. This house, our home. We watched Continue reading →
Lance Garland
This essay appeared in Earthly Love: Stories of Intimacy and Devotion from Orion. ON THE WEATHER DECKS of my naval warship, in the wilderness of the Pacific Ocean, I smoked alone. Continue reading →