"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die."Keep reading
Up north, leaves are peaking; the colors leaking south, bringing summer heat. Trees are like torches. We sleep on porches, sweating, almost forgetting...then awake to flakes. It's trick and treat."