Stories Inspired by Life in Rural Brazil
With our most recent drama there’s been many a conversation of late about courage with, well, just about everyone. For those that asked me my opinion I would tell them that I think courage isn’t about not feeling afraid, it’s about feeling afraid and doing it anyway. Fear is just meant to be a safety-check, …
I don’t know if my husband knows it but when we first started dating he had competition, a very sweet friend of a friend. One night I picked up a phone call from the hospital, calling to see if I was free to come in and interpret in the Emergency Room. When I arrived it quickly …
Each finger ached. My hands were full with grocery bags: peppers, broccoli, squash, beans, soap, coffee, sausage, and all the other things that we need for a week. My eyes and mind were focused on my destination a few blocks away. He stepped into my path and asked me a question. He was tiny–not even …
One of the cutest things I have overheard this week (and with three small kids at the farm, there’s lots of cute) was little Anésio learning to shout “Ayyyi!” in proper cowboy style at the correct crescendos of a musica serteneja song. As of yesterday Anésio (age 2)–god love him–digs this art form that involves shouting …
Why your children will be little copies of you–whether you like it or notRead More
I pledge allegiance to the faults in my unified human state and to the humility for which they stand one person flawed under god with beauty and simplicity for all.
As we work to fix up and give new life to the family farm where we live, I realize that a lot of our success is due to our accumulated skills. I get the impression that a lot of observers in the community think that it is because we came back with lots of American …
(This post was published accidentally about a week ago before it was complete. The mistake was quickly corrected, but some people got a 404 error as a result. Sorry for the confusion! Here it is in its finished state.) Without language, we strip human interaction down to it’s most basic. I find I learn a lot …
I pile brush under a sky pewter gray. Vultures circle overhead over the field one hill away where a cow past her prime is being laid to rest. Beef which forms income to purchase the next generation. I pile brush dry and crackling so that we can burn it; hours of labor gone in fiery …
My hands have blisters in the most incredible places. The tip of my pinky, the edge of my palm, along my heart line, two in the moon of my index. Each has a name, like constellations: the mark of the hoe the scythe the pickaxe the wheelbarrow the shovel. My lover is dismayed. He cups …
