Spring Cleaning

Winter surrendered. Riverbanks croaked a single splash with each muddied footstep. Wild Sweet William's dainty lavender flower mingled lush green leaves and twisting vines of yellow-hued buttercups and scarlet sumac. Scraps of ocean blue ribbon and coral-colored yarn frantically entwined weaving sticks and leaves, nesting six brown-speckled eggs. Wild turkeys gathered strutting rowed corn fields. Beneath the refuge of centenarian pine fawns struggle against tottering wobbled legs. Snapping turtles lazily sit side by side sunning on downed oak logs across the trickling eddy. A deluded hummingbird, hoodwinked by an empty bird feeder, tells me to get busy.

From Guest Contributor Christy Schuld

The Sewing Box

Mrs. Livingston's sewing box was home to all manner of assortments. Strings and thimbles and yarns filled the various trays until they overflowed from one level and started cluttering the next.

But Mrs. Livingston's sewing box also lodged certain invasive residents who had nothing to do with sewing. A fairy family lived among the buttons and spools, hiding not only from Mrs. Livingston, but also from their enemies of the realm.

Fairy hunters know that sewing boxes are the first place to look for renegades. Unfortunately for Mrs. Livingston, she died during the scuffle, killed by her own knitting needles.