letters from the apple house

March 2023 There’s a story of an old man carving himself a son, my girl tells me, and that is fatherhood: a man at his desk shaping the...

February 2023 It starts with the birds, and a night warm enough to leave the windows open. The buds on the trees, the leaves that held...

January 2023 I’ll dare you to call me ugly in the winter. Not dolled up with snow. When the leaves are lost and trees are bare and even...