My Favorite Season
A seventh-grader in Houston writes about the few weeks each year when she can walk outside without checking anything first.
My Favorite Season
A seventh-grader in Houston writes about the few weeks each year when she can walk outside without checking anything first.
The Hunt
A boy follows his uncle through Montana timber that used to be too thick to see through. The elk are higher than they should be. The creek runs thinner than it did. His uncle keeps stopping to describe what used to be here, and the boy listens carefully, patient with lessons that never quite match the ground.
The Hunt
A boy follows his uncle through Montana timber that used to be too thick to see through. The elk are higher than they should be. The creek runs thinner than it did. His uncle keeps stopping to describe what used to be here, and the boy listens carefully, patient with lessons that never quite match the ground.
Show and Tell
Lily goes third, after the geode and the pinecone. She holds it up with both hands. White, branching, light as chalk.
"It's the most beautiful rock I ever saw," she says.
Mrs. Reeves asks to see it. Lily brings it to her desk. The class watches. It fits in her palm, porous and dry, smooth where the waves wore it down.
"It is beautiful," Mrs. Reeves says. She gives it back.
At lunch she sits in her car with the windows up. She doesn't eat. She just sits there, hands open on her lap.
Further Reading
Past Articles
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