The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
Queen Anne’s lace is hardly prized butall the same it isn’t idle look how it stands straight on itsthin stems how it scrubs its white faces with therags of the sun how it makes all the loveliness it can.
Did you too see it, drifting, all night on the black river?Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air,an armful of white blossoms,a perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leanedinto the bondage of its…
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’thesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives andwhole towns destroyed or about to be. We are notwise, and not very often kind. And much can neverbe redeemed. Still, life has…
I own a house, small but comfortable. In it is a bed, a desk,a kitchen, a closet, a telephone. And so forth—you knowhow it is: things collect. Outside the summer clouds are drifting by, all of themwith vague and beautiful…
I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the riversflow in the right direction, will the earth turnas it was taught, and if not, how shallI correct it? Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,can I…
Early in the morning we crossed the ghat,where fires were still smoldering,and gazed, with our Western minds, into the Ganges.A woman was standing in the river up to her waist;she was lifting handfuls of water and spilling itover her body,…
When I lived under the black oaksI felt I was made of leaves.When I lived by Little Sister Pond,I dreamed I was the feather of the blue heronleft on the shore;I was the pond lily, my root delicate as an…
The sea can do craziness, it can do smooth,it can lie down like silk breathingor toss havoc shoreward; it can give gifts or withhold all; it can rise, ebb, frothlike an incoming frenzy of fountains, or it cansweet-talk entirely. As…
Every day the sea blue gray green lavenderpulls away leaving the harbor’sdark-cobbled undercoatslick and rutted and worm-riddled, the gullswalk there among old whalebones, the white spines of fish blink from the strandy stewas the hours tick over; and thenfar out…
Todayone small snake lay, looped andsolitaryin the high grass, it swirled to look, didn’tlike what it sawand was gonein two pulses forward and with no sound at all, onlytwo taps, in disarray, fromthat other shy one,my heart.