Jenny Lovewell

The truck bumps along hillside after hillside of charred, scarred and twisted trees in this ghastly fire-defeated forest. Prickly stickery burrs in the meager undergrowth are caught between sharp rocks and dry fractured mud. As a soft-shelled creature requiring the smooth sensuality of common sense to survive, this hardscrabble landscape is a horrible host offering […]

When the growing season ends, some gardeners (and some lovers) will pull a withered embrace of sweet peas from the supporting trellis, sweep puckered tomato kisses off a stained patio floor, and say “so long” to root-bound, disappointing efforts.     They’ll feel free at last.     No longer engaged     in watering, feeding, weeding.         Free . . . […]

Pepperwood dust hung in sausage curls by the long, sweet face of the river. We ate Co-op bread from paper sacks as our bare feet thrummed nature’s anthem, accompanied by ants, choired by trees, in perfect harmonic summerese. Jenny Lovewell

Seventy degrees below zero, he woolly bear caterpillar rolls into a ball, and survives an Arctic winter.            For years, in rain, hail and lightning storms,            a woman hunches deep in her camo cocoon            on a bench in downtown Eureka. The little bears heart can stop in winter and then start again next […]

A couple decades difference in our ages, a dozen years as neighbors, perhaps a handful of brief chats through the lattice and hydrangeas. A few times I put your newspaper at your door so you wouldn’t have to retrieve it in bathrobe and slippers. So as not to disturb you, I bring my dog in […]