In the fading light, I reach up and hold an apple in my hand. It rests there against the stars just visible through the branches. I smell its sharp-sweet flesh, sense its mystery. I’m holding life and legends in one hand.
Weekly Message from Brenda Pielle for Family Fun: “Spring has sprung, the grass has “riz” (risen), I wonder where the birdie is? The bird’s upon the wing, but that’s absurd, the wing’s upon the bird!”
I’m here beside you through the long turbulent nights. I’ll reach to connect with you in the wildest of winds. Be assured of my presence. Have confidence. I’m here.
Her hands were dark and rough from doing hard work over the years. She told stories of her as a young child gathering along the railroad tracks, coal which had fallen from coal trains.