Praying with Fringes 7/09/2014 – the sweet, dappled stain on our hands

Blueberry Season, 1976 Eileen Walsh Duncan As the marsh swelters in August, it begins: the sweet, dappled stain on our hands, the languid shadows. Three languages between us. One endless task. Each berry rolling heavily from the stem with drowsy liquid thuds. When you're fourteen, and walk a summer under this buzzing canopy, bathed in … Continue reading Praying with Fringes 7/09/2014 – the sweet, dappled stain on our hands