It was the annual open house at the school up the road. For days, the 7-year-old whose blue jeans I launder had been buzzing. For days, the book fair had

Raising my eyes toward the heavens, I addressed my complaint to Almighty: “Where are the girls in my life?!” And that quick, Little Tooter dropped this, “They’re in Ohio.” I

Settled in bed late at night, we’d hear it. Someone overhead, walking quiet, walking soft on the wooden floorboards. Often, it was one of the boys. “Go to bed!” we’d

Driving into town on a bright, clear day, I see it. To the left, a tall maple with color aflame shouts “glory” from its spot by the road. Turning onto

I’d texted in a panic. That quick, she’d called, hearing me out and walking me through. Then she said it, the nugget-truth that turned on the light:  “He always intercedes

“Dear Resident Cricket.” That’s how the note began. “After weeks of your cheerful little ‘songs of praise’ down there in the hinterlands (i.e., the basement), I can hardly remember my

Sitting “criss cross, applesauce” in a circle around her, Auntie would pull us right in. Eyes wide, she’d begin, “We’re going on a bear hunt.” And eyes wide, we’d repeat

It may be one of the strangest stories of the year. In Amherst, Ontario, recently, a 34-year-old woman accidentally ran a marathon. A Canadian wire service, Postmedia News, reported that

“Look how tall it is!” I’d said in wonder, noting the unusual height of the corn (thinking, you see, of last summer’s drought).  The beans, too, had flourished, laying row

It comes on a crisp, fall day. There we are, perched on a sidewalk just before that famous pie. Peering through the plate glass window, it stretches as far as