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| What the Christmas story, and especially Mary’s part in it, means to Joanna as the holiday season rolls round again. > > r e a d o n
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In the hills I learn the design.
The lizard outside my door
has different markings each year, the same tissue.
Flame terrorizes brush, strips ravines,
cleanses the small animal population.
I mourn quail and rabbits I've fed.
Fire, part of the plan.
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Four years ago we turned the country over to giant corporations, and sacrificed our rational thought and our civil liberties in what comes closer to being the devil’s bargain than anything I can recall.
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Lives oftentimes are bound together by invisible threads of shared experiences and common interests. Such was the case with my Great-aunt Helen, a woman whose skillful use of fibers and textiles weaved our lives in a pleasing, intertwining pattern.
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