Stories Inspired by Life in Rural Brazil
Aren’t memories grand? Life is made of both the big milestones and the tiny pebbles under our feet.
I suppose it’s possible to have too much of a good thing. Too many avocados? I’m not sure that’s possible. What? You don’t store your extra avocados in the oven?
It’s orange season! Around here almost everyone has an orange tree in their back yard, or knows someone who does. We all sit around snacking on oranges until we can’t stand it anymore. Most of these trees are juice oranges and they don’t peel easily. Thus, the correct way to eat a Brazilian orange is to slice off …
My daughter has eyes like Brazilian coffee So dark that when she looks upward they reflect the sky. “Oh look!” they say, “Her eyes are turning blue! How wonderful!” “Mmmm…” I say. Not really. Her hair began a dark cloud and is brightening to the sunny brown of my childhood. “Oh look!” they say, “She’s …
She came to us because her mother died in a tragic accident. Our relatives couldn’t raise her, so they brought this little orphan to us. How could you say “no” to those big brown eyes? Veadiniha (“Little Deer”) is too young to put straight out into the pasture to feed. She’s been living within the …
I’m a little late on this post. We arrived in Brazil on September 9, 2011. Somehow I blinked and this year’s September anniversary rolled by. I’ll blame it on the pregnancy, my scapegoat for all things memory-related in 2013. Last year on my one-year anniversary here I wrote about how life will slip by unless you …
Ok, so we had a baby over here! That’s my rock-solid excuse for not blogging for most of December and January: lost in baby-land. (For those that are curious, it’s a girl, 3,78 kilos/8 lbs. 5 oz., healthy, and adorable–see right) Relatives and friends have arrived in droves to coo over the new little one. …
She stopped by to visit and asked to see the new crib. I adore it; it’s lovely and the symbol of so many dreams of to come. Of course I’d be happy to show it. She’s expecting too. Conversation naturally turned to comparing mama notes. I showed her the new dresser we got to go …
It was hot. The supermarket was crowded with tired, cranky people (me) doing their shopping after a long work day. The line wasn’t unreasonable given the time of day, but it couldn’t move fast enough for me. TWO people in front of me. ONE person in front of me. THERE. I reached into my basket …
The seeds sat mixed among a display of ordinary local vegetables. Taste of my homeland summers I clutched them to my heart, hand-carried them to the register, and brought them home from that distant supermarket. I hoard each seed. I’ll probably never get any more. We are kindred souls, my swisschard and I. Not born …
