burrow

Posted on by Laura J. Frantz

Trains pass this house many times a day and sound their horns at the crossings. They blend into the soundscape of birds, wind moving through pines, settling walls.

My boy and I have new rhythms and new favorites, new jobs and new home offices. He learns to drive on a cherry red Ford pickup. We spend time with sisters, cousins, and uncles. Our voices echo through empty rooms with bare floors and walls.

It feels right that we came here in winter. My heavy heart needs a resting, fallow time. I burrow under, and curl to lick my wounds.

At the End of the Year

Posted on by Laura J. Frantz

On the second to last day of this year, I stand at the clothesline and pin damp sheets and pillowcases still smelling of lavender. They snap and twist in the cold wind. I’m surrounded by all the dried and dead of the garden.

Inside, I watch the bone broth simmer through the glass lid. The bubbles wiggle the chicken feet floating on the surface of the golden liquid.

And I’m sick and worn down to just the warp in spots. My eyes burn and my ears are blocked and ringing still with the leaving, that final gift that pricks and throbs like so many tiny shards of glass embedded just under the skin.

I drape the dried sheet over the mattress and make crisp hospital corners at the foot of the bed, and the smell of petrichor rises from the linens, warding against evil in the new year to come.

letting go

Posted on by Laura J. Frantz

Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful. — William Morris

We are moving in two months, so I am taking William Morris’ words to heart. I am making choices, selling off, giving away. I feel stripped down to a ribbon inside. I move from room to room, pulling items out of corners and closets. I hold each thing in my hand, feel its weight, and I whisper to myself: And this? Does this matter to you? Will its loss tear through you, leave you broken and wanting?

The whispered answer:
Just let it go.

Honeysuckle Syrup

Posted on by Laura J. Frantz


My girl and I walked between buildings in our townhouse development and found a patch of fragrant honeysuckle at the edge of the woods. I washed the blossoms, then steeped them overnight in simple syrup. The syrup is lovely mixed with soda water, poured over ice with a squeeze of lemon or sprig of mint.