Farmlet

It’s 7am Monday morning, swimming day, and I’m still in bed. Fifteen minutes more. I don’t have to leave for an hour. Beside me the Bearded One snores and snorts as only a man with a sinus ...

https://farmlet.wordpress.com/2015/12/10/the-last-farmlet/

I’m mowing in a long-sleeved shirt, trying not to bump any palms, flinching every time I feel anything resembling a bite. I want to love this place, the good and the bad, the way the Hawaiians ...

https://farmlet.wordpress.com/2015/09/27/maybe-ten-bites/

“It’s all barometricky out there,” says the Bearded One. It’s Saturday morning and I sit sweating in my chair next to the window in our upstairs bedroom. I grunt, a sort of nasal harrumph...

https://farmlet.wordpress.com/2015/08/20/dragon-woman/

My name is Roger. I’m two years old. I’m a big, shiny black dog. The last time I hung out for days and days with Tutu I was just a 3 month old pup. Tutu lived in Olalla, Washington then … C...

https://farmlet.wordpress.com/2015/07/22/tutu-and-roger-special-edition-long-blog/

It’s that time of the month again.   The Bearded One’s back is out (for the first time in his life), he’s in bed and has been for days (moving all those damn lava rocks),   so for the fi...

https://farmlet.wordpress.com/2015/06/16/equalization/

“I’m coming, too!” I call to the Bearded One who is spraying his tanned shins with mosquito repellant out where the truck is usually parked. It’s between rain showers and I can’t go swi...

https://farmlet.wordpress.com/2015/05/19/pinkerbell/

NeNe, my swimming buddy, waves from the boat ramp and I wave back from just inside the breakwater. Where’s George? I wonder, and swim to join my friend. I almost didn’t come. NeNe didn’t an...

https://farmlet.wordpress.com/2015/04/09/feet-in-your-shoes/

The Bearded One lifts the empty box Nala came in from the back seat and I shoulder my purse and grab the gallon ziplock bag of my chocolate chip cookies and we head into the veterinarian’s hous...

https://farmlet.wordpress.com/2015/02/24/the-boy-spouts-of-america/

We are Robert the water guy’s next to last delivery. It’s almost 8pm, we’ve got spotlights on the side of the house, the Bearded One is opening the gate, and I’m standing at the window ho...

https://farmlet.wordpress.com/2015/02/08/if-you-give-a-house-a-bed/

“Take a look at this,” I say. I hold up a photocopy of a drawing of a young, tattooed Hawaiian man from 1778. Half his handsome face is covered with tattoos and he sports a Mohawk. “My son�...

https://farmlet.wordpress.com/2015/01/21/still-untattooed/