Both Can Be True

“Dad, you’re never home!” My son, Rhett, cries, burying his face in his hands. Then he throws himself on the kitchen floor. “You’re never here at dinner, and I just want to be with you!” I glance out the kitchen window, the sky is still dark, but there’s a hint of red on the horizon. … More Both Can Be True

In Good Hands

I shivered, tucking my hands into the pockets of my brand new Carhartt coveralls. Just the year before, I wore dress pants and skirts and walked the halls as a high school counselor. My old life in the city was a world away from my new life on the farm. Now, cows mooed around me, … More In Good Hands

Woman Declares She’s Never Writing Again; Then Posts on Her Blog

The wind is terrible here. It howls through the windows, and the tree branches scrape against the house’s roof. It’s dry too—we need rain. We needed it weeks ago. Every time I look out the window, I see dirt blowing across the gravel roads—and it feels like a bit of hope is carried away with … More Woman Declares She’s Never Writing Again; Then Posts on Her Blog