Posts by Jennifer Dougan
Um, There’s Someone Behind You…
Photo Credit to Thierry Gregorius Rigor mortis drapes fingertips long on our Christmas tree still sparkling beside me. Fragrant pine needles wafted long after December 25th so I didn’t have the heart to throw it away then. Now the scent has passed, though, and it’s time. Alongside strong French coffee this week, I’ve been following…
Read MoreMartians Home for Dinner
Photo courtesy of NASA Vivaldi traipses scales in violins and lutes tonight while a deep white frost encases the glass on our front door. Record-breaking arctic windchills blast the Midwest, and Minnesotans everywhere huddle indoors today, after jump-starting frozen autos and avoiding the wind. Car dashboards blink temperatures in the negative, and tv news anchors…
Read MoreHe Asked Me With His Eyes
Photographed by Steve Bingham, Old Man He stood between snowbanks on the passenger side of my car. Stopped at a red light, I read his cardboard sign, and studied the man holding it. A soft grey beard hung to his neck, and a woolen Russian hat wrapped around his ears and head. The gentleman’s eyes…
Read MoreQuick! Right Now Before the New Year…
This is it. Turn on the Rocky theme song, pump up the hip-shaking Latin music, and crank it loud. This is it. Grab your coffee beans off the shelf, a filter, and grind up a strong pot. This is it, this is your day. Who needs to wait until January 1st to start seizing each…
Read MoreOf Love Stories and a Political Coup d’Etat for Christmas
Artist Richard Heeks I’m belting out love songs from the eighties and nineties, as I splash dish soap across the sink, and my hand still aches from the scribbling. Earlier, I scrawled handwritten words across three pages of lined paper at the kitchen table, trying to sum up the greatest story. An account of a…
Read MoreIs God Forced into It?
Mustached or hoodie-wrapped college guys with large gulp sodas fling male laughter loud across the kitchen table behind me. My husband and some guy friends study complicated game boards and maneuver dozens of wooden game tokens. Our Christmas tree blinks blue, red, yellow, skipping green because of a faulty bulb somewhere in the line. Mens’…
Read MoreChristmas Calls Out Our Courage
Naked trees etch the darkness. Cold air seeps in, chilling my bare feet and hands, despite the heat on. Courage falls flat some nights, and I pray hard, reading and re-reading every word typed or scrawled, weighing the terms, the message, the need, and hoping it shows my heart and nothing else. In a blinking…
Read MoreRomance: Tundra- and Grandma-style
“I’ll see you Wednesday,” I called up the stairs to my co-worker, shutting the door behind me. Crunching through powdery snow, I pulled my black French scarf higher across my cheeks and nose, shielding out the frigid air. Minnesota twilight looked blue silver, and neighborhood Christmas lights peeked out from snowy branches. Swinging my book…
Read MoreTransforming Homework Sessions into Home Memories
Wind chimes clang in the ten degree weather, and students everywhere unload textbooks and notebooks across kitchen tables, or toss heavy backpacks onto worn couches. Artist Hilda Robinson, “Studying at the Table“ What transforms homework sessions into home memories? It’s the x-factor, that unknown variable that finagles its way into each afternoon. Whether its mixed…
Read MoreFor After the Turkey and Stuffing…What’s Seeking to Fill You Right Up?
I admit it. The fear crept in. In between the moist brined turkey slathered with cranberry jelly, the gravy-drizzled stuffing and the mashed potato mounds, the fear slipped in. Earlier, on our way out the door to relatives and Thanksgiving feasts, two letters had arrived. The letters mapped out the region around our home, drafting…
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