Posts by Jennifer Dougan
When They Think They See Us, But It’s Not
They thought it was us, but it wasn’t. It was him. In a land where warm fresh bread was just a morning’s walk away — the long crusty-on-the-outside, soft-on-the-inside French baguettes– and where buttery pain au chocolates “croissants” with inner chocolate streaks elicited moans every morning, everything was vivid. Our team of thirteen senior high…
Read MorePull Up a Chair With Me?
Sunlight slants sideways from the east — left through rippled green maple leaves — onto the black metal patio table, green canvas umbrella, and light-tufted flower plants of orange, red, and yellow. The feathery Celosia plumes are beautiful and I find my eyes drawn here often. Cotton seeds circle and float in aimless patterns; the…
Read MorePeach Pits, Magic Acts, and What Will Thrill You
I saw them this week, all lined up just waiting. Five dried peach pits, riddled with crevices and cracks, laying flat on the soil awash in potential and wonder. Photo: Christopher Bowns, Creative Commons cc license Daniel puts them there, this sweet little towheaded blonde six and a half year old. Since learning of gardening…
Read MoreWhen the Red and Blue Bring Greens and Golds
“Want to smell it?” he asks, stepping aside from the window. Photo Artist: Jar (Away), Creative Commons, cc license It’s been raining for four hours, a misty, hard-to-see rain that flickers translucent in the air. Water soaks the grass, clusters and puddles atop crescent-shaped purple coral-bell leaves, and drips in steady rhythm from the canvas…
Read MoreWhen Your Stakes Seem Higher
The stakes seemed higher. It’s funny how that happened. Every week without a blogpost here raised the cost of words for me, and weighted each one heavier. Photo: Martin O_ob, Creative Commons, cc license Busyness first halted me, carrying me away from my desk and you. Days passed, weeks mounted, though, and suddenly fear crept…
Read MoreOf Blood Oranges, Butterflies, & Martha Stewart Gaffs
Smoke told me the oven was hot. This is what Martha Stewart moments look like at our house. Shaving up curling cold spoonfuls of cookie dough from my chilled bowl of chocolate chip and butterscotch cookies, I mold and form them into balls. Once two buttered sheets of them are in the oven, I take…
Read MoreOf Lawyers, Judges, and What’s On Your Back
“I wish I’d never done it,” she said, describing a post-college year of late-night dance clubs, too much alcohol, and men with unfamiliar names the next morning. Regret brimmed up and over her eyelashes now, and she twisted her blonde hair absentmindedly. Photo: David, Creative Commons, cc license We hugged in the crowded auditorium. I…
Read MoreStraddling True Relationships in a Busy World
Brassy coronets and high-hat-swinging percussionists ring out Benny Goodman’s jazzy Trees. Crescendos echo and fall before Louis Armstrong steps up to croon Let’s Fall In Love. Piano keys traipse up and down their black and white board. Photo credit: Darwin Bell, Creative Commons, cc license Behind me on the small desk stool, my nineteen year…
Read MoreIf You’re Waiting & Wondering Where the Excitement Is
Photo: Ted McGrath, Creative Commons, cc license Sliced onions sting my eyes, and a salty scent of “pork eggroll in a bowl” rests heavy in the kitchen. Flecks of shredded carrot scatter my youngest’s plate and the table where he sat. Lego noises and boy sounds echo in the living room. Spring in Minnesota looks…
Read MoreWhen Scrunched Up Faces Reveal Secret Fears
She is laughing so hard that the sound ricochets up the steps. (Not my daughter.) Photo Credit:Alpha Chen, Creative Commons, cc license “Oh no,” she giggles in surprise and glee, “oh no.” And the squealed laughter and mirth bubble up from deep within her. My daughter’s laughter is known for being unrestrainable, uncontainable, and loud.…
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