Saving Hours of Rummaging

Leaves rustled. A wild turkey offered a weak gobble, muffled in the River Raisin’s bottoms. A gray squirrel materialized, bounded once and commenced digging. Leaves and pieces of leaves flew along with tiny scrapings of earth. The squirrel’s nose burrowed beneath the layered, brown skeletons of the summer prior, then emerged with a mold-encrusted acorn.… Continue reading Saving Hours of Rummaging

Not Worth the Risk

Thursday, 3 November 1763 Quick glances proved fruitless. Somewhere overhead little claws scratched bark. A different fox squirrel chattered in a distant slender oak. A yellow poplar leaf whip-sawed earthward. Gnats flitted about. The air smelled warm, damp and fall-like. The tarnished-brass lead-holder scribbled across a sunlit page. “An honest mistake…,” this passage began. Daylight… Continue reading Not Worth the Risk

“Mi-ki-naak measuring powder”

“Snapshot Saturday”

Referencing the fall of 1763…

Fall’s melody played upon the treetops. Yellow maple leaves fluttered earthward. A single wing bone touched pursed lips. Two kissing breaths passed up the hollow tube. “Arrkk…arrkk.” Two abrupt clucks drifted on the gentle breeze of a early-November morning. Greenish-yellow poplar leaves flapped like the wings of a wood duck that does not wish to… Continue reading Referencing the fall of 1763…