Hope. Springs. Eternal.

Sweet potato flowerWe’ve gotten a respite from chilblain-blistering cold, with temps tomorrow in the mid-sixties. Nearly a week of melting’s left my home’s southern exposure (nearly) stripped of snow, grass matted like a week in bed with stomach flu. Rain, possibly thunder, predicted for the day after tomorrow; may it inspire some green. Continue reading

RIP Twin Cities

cracked heart picture in pavementThis gentle giant
Ended by corrupt police
Remember George Floyd.

Hope strained, smoke-stained streets
Shattered hearts, Minnesota
Patience, as we heal.

(This, on top of COVID. And those who gather together–prayers broken by opportunistic anarchists–risk a steeper next wave in the coming weeks.)

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2020)

Where Has Summer Gone?

I look for her in the living room. The Pendleton blanket is folded and laid neatly on the back of the overstuffed couch (my sister’s choice). Mother’s hand-crocheted throw rests gently on the seat of our childhood rocking chair (my choice). Dust motes swirl in the half-light of this cloudy November afternoon, whispering rumors of light snow mirroring their desultory dance. It’s plenty cold outside those triple-pane windows.  Continue reading