It’s been a bit since I posted anything for Folk Thursday. With a little more time on my hands than usual, this seems as good a time as any to do it.
In “The Fallow Way,” Judy Collins’ lyrics speak to the value of stillness and solitude — two commodities many of us have in abundance at the moment.
I found myself thinking of this song Tuesday as I was standing in the lobby of the Roadrunner Lodge, minding the desk while the owner was busy with a teleconference. Here in Tucumcari, the winter is quiet, but this time of year, we start to see the snowbirds stopping in on their way east from Arizona, and the first few tourists begin wandering up and down Tucumcari Boulevard, cameras in hand. Every spring, I look forward to watching Route 66 come back to life, a bright blossom with petals made of neon and chrome. Continue reading Folk Thursday: The Fallow Way
NOTE: This is part of the new novel I am writing. I am posting it here as a diversion for readers who may be living under shelter-in-place policies while the world waits for the coronavirus pandemic to pass. For an explanation of this project, please click here.
March 16, 2018 ~ Tulsa, Oklahoma
One day, Holly thought, rereading the note she’d found on the counter, one day I will stop falling for screwed-up straight women who are just experimenting while they rebound from bad breakups.
She rummaged through the cabinet under the sink, frowning as she noticed several bottles of cleaning supplies were missing. Really? Leaving me for an abusive ex-boyfriend isn’t enough? What kind of petty bitch steals Windex on the way out? She tossed aside a box of trash-can liners – At least she left those, she thought – and half a pack of off-brand scouring pads to get to the ashtray she’d stuck under the sink when Melissa moved in, bringing her self-righteous distaste for cigarette smoke with her. Holly pulled a menthol 100 from the pack in her purse and lit it, taking a long, satisfying drag as she set the dusty ashtray on the counter. Continue reading Dear Holly