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Saturday, February 09, 2008

house: a (tiny) memoir

The circle of grass that made up a part of the yard, as the lane followed down from dirt road into lower case “b,” curving between house and garage, shed, barnyard and barn, gas pump and shed, before turning back. Where he used to snowblow the yard in a mound and a mountain sometimes two storeys tall, if the snow was enough. It was perfect for snowforts and sliding, toddler sister in pink snowsuit bulk and I throwing snowballs at whoever came by, whether neighbour or hired man. Cold so cold cutting eyebrows like hot knives and dropping chimney smoke low to the rolling ground, and the end of a day always hot chocolate thick marshmallows, waiting.


house: a (tiny) memoir

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