Death on the Shoreline

The first few things I remember about our stretch of Chatham seashore last summer are the waters chopping and clapping against the rocks, the place where the gray sky touched the horizon, and the points of light that blinked there after dark--- lighthouses across the bay. I also remember how the seashore smelled like dead … Continue reading Death on the Shoreline

Summer Is Near

“There was no trace of the fog now. The sky became bluer and bluer, and now there were white clouds hurrying across it from time to time. In the wide glades there were primroses. A light breeze sprang up which scattered drops of moisture from the swaying branches and carried cool, delicious scents against the … Continue reading Summer Is Near

The Things I’ve Seen

Someone gave me a composition notebook for my fourteenth birthday and told me to write blessings in it, to number them. I think the goal was 10,000, but I lost count after awhile, and the “thanksgivings” turned into little observations of the world around me: The house is quiet this morning. Elsie learned to roll … Continue reading The Things I’ve Seen

Two Legs on God’s Earth

If I could find the stamina, I’d like to pick up Metaxas’s big biography and sit down with Dietrich Bonhoeffer for the rest of the summer, reading his words, his wisdom, his sermons, his German heritage, his spy work against Hitler, his imprisonment, his love story, his death. History is one of the things I … Continue reading Two Legs on God’s Earth