When a spring season arrives it somehow feels like everything is new, as if winter has frozen my brain and made me forget spring. The leaves, curled tight like small green fists yesterday, have unfurled today, stretching their fingers toward the warmer sunshine. Looking out the kitchen window there is new texture across the mountains,…
Author: Melissa Perley
What Frequency
I’m spending a lot of time sending out baby photos. Baby tomato photos documenting the growth from seedling to the true-leaves phase. I’m as proud as any new parent. Our kitchen has an eerie grow-light-glow that colors everyone’s face pale green. We began with about fifty seedlings. This afternoon I stood at the kitchen counter,…
Totality
Saturday we were on the Interstate headed north and began noticing the number of cars from out of state. Like the game we played as kids, counting license plates, we added up the amount until we reached our destination. I bought two pairs of paper “solar-proof” glasses in Montpelier several weeks ago before the supply…
The Firsts
The breeze from the north felt hard but the almost-April sunshine is warm enough for us to want to walk down to the pastures with the dogs. I have a pan of chopped potatoes coated in olive oil and sprinkled with herbs waiting to roast. Bright green stalked of asparagus stacked into the depths of…
Dirt Roads
There is a kind of buzzing under my skin in late February and March: it’s not bees, it’s a persistent, recurring agitation. It is mud. Late February, regardless of cloud cover, the sun is warmer. Driving the dirt road to our house I notice a new shiny slickness. The road becomes consistently wet, resembling the…
Long Live The King
Sarah drove in: I looked out our bedroom window and saw her small dog, Chewy, hop out of the car in his orange dog coat. I made my steps deliberate and slow so as not to beat her to the door. She rapped quietly and let herself in. I squatted next to the brown doughnut-dog…
Lessons Learned
Each day is lighter a bit earlier. Around the holidays I’d flip on the outside lights before four in the afternoon: now dark doesn’t fall until after six. We still pull out the folding card table each evening, set it up in the living room, light the fireplace and have dinner in front of it….
Deep Roots
We began February under a Wolf Moon: a large full moon named by Native Americans. It is believed that they named different full moons to differentiate seasons, and that when the large Wolf Moon was up it would be at the coldest time of year. Wolves would howl in response to the lack of food…
From The Ground Up
In January 2024, it seems all of our talk centers around weather, especially temperatures. We received an Alexa device for Christmas from one of our sons a few years ago and one of the few functions we use is asking about the upcoming week’s weather… and how to spell things. Early January was characteristically blustery…
Accepting The Unacceptable
It is cold. Not cold where you debate wearing a hat cold, but the kind of cold where the snow squeaks when you walk on it, like sneakers in a gym. January cold. When I go out to do chores I spend a good ten minutes mummifying myself. Wool, head to toe or, if you…
The Flock
The wrapping paper has been rolled and stored, the gifts carefully stuffed into created corners and the last of the holiday leftovers eaten. We spend New Year’s day pulling down the shooting star off the shop, burning boxes, and feeding wreaths and trees, stripped of ribbons, to our sheep and curious chickens. There is a…
Happy (New & Improved) New Year
Before Thanksgiving we had snow, not just a dusting, but piles. We pulled on winter coats, gloves and boots to go to my sister’s summer place to share turkey. It felt wonderful to walk into the camp, stomp our feet and unwrap ourselves from wool. The week before Christmas colored lights reflected in the snowbanks…
Winter Lights
I like to save a bit of holiday shopping for the week before Christmas. Normally the idea of being crushed by impatient people in the aisles of a small shop is off-putting, but this week it appeals to me. I manage to find an open spot to put my truck, happy to see the red…
The Most Quiet Time Of The Year
I sit watching the snow fall from the sky in thick, ponderous plops to the ground. White rain. I can see Paul dragging chunks of wood that he had cut from the tree that had toppled into our driveway during the night. I finish plugging in the two crockpots of chili on the wood bar,…
How Much Is Enough
The difficult days are the ones filled with the “why me?” or, maybe, “why not me?” We all know what it is to have someone make comment from the corner of their mouth; wondering how you possibly manage to live in a house with “only” one bathroom, drive a car that a family of four…