I was that kid, that flower munching, rock collecting kid. I spent hours trying to dam up our frog pond and fed my sisters goutweed root, thinking it was Queen Anne’s Lace (oops). Now I want the rocks to stay put for drainage, weeds to stay out of the lawn, and slugs and snails to stop eating the garden.
Reports of White House Spokesman Sean Spicer’s jaw-gapingly inappropriate comments comparing atrocities were bringing back that gasping, nauseous post-election feeling that had been starting to fade. But the peepers washed it away, leaving just a trace of discomfort, like the last trace of snow scribbled in the margins of the field.