In Our Garden

gingerbreadhouselitmag's avatarGingerbread House Lit Mag

The day we returned home from our family vacation was the day before we found household items growing in our garden. We pulled into our driveway at 8:12 p.m. The lawn in front of our house was muddied from the unthawed frost, and our wind chime dripped rhythmically. The cold of the night hung over our heads, a thick fog that blocked the moon. We hustled out of the car, quickly unloading our luggage to get into the warmth of our house.

“Oh my,” Father said. “Our back gate is unlatched.”

Although it was dark, I could see that the gate was swung all the way open so it hit the backside of the fence. Mother, Abby, and I dismissed it for a curious animal, too tired to respond to Father.

“Oh, Margaret, honey,” Father exclaimed from the backyard. “Come look at this!”

“What, what? What’s the matter?” Mother asked.

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You can’t go home again

Uncertain Scribe's avatarUncertain Scribe

The house wasn’t the same to her any more. The first thing the new owners did was root up the yew hedge. In its place reared a stark, brutal fence so that Amy could no longer see the roses growing up the path. But she’d been able to see enough, peering through the gaps in the slats, to make out that they’d flattened the rockery to put in a basket ball area. Amy’s father had constructed that rockery, and lovingly tended the little succulents. She used to wheel her bike past it every weekday, returning from school, before entering the cool gloom of her father’s study.  Those comfortable week nights relaxing on their cracked leather sofa, watching Danger Mouse and eating slices of her father’s macaroni cheese.

So, she avoided cycling past Primrose Cottage these days, but couldn’t seem to avoid it in her dreams. Nearly every night she found…

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TWISTER FORK

Discover a new way to enjoy your favorite food. The Twister is a fresh take on an old tradition that helps you enjoy your favorite food without making a mess. Using a spoon while eating spaghetti is sometimes considered bad form, and a regular fork can require skill and patience. Body of The Twister is mostly round to ensure easier twisting, while its wavy tines keep the pasta in place, so you can focus on the taste, and not on the physics.

Suitcase

LauraALord's avatar Laura A. Lord

My grandmother saved stale bread
in a wooden box on the third shelf
in her little pantry closet. She put it
on hold, as if the bread had come to
some strange junction in its life
where famished children must wait
and watch to see what it would become.

No one could question the temerity of
that woman. There was a strong line,
bright as a shining vein of sapphire
that ran in knowing little paths
across hands that could jettison a
fistful of blanks just as easily
as it could tear stale bread into chunks –
transform those chunks into an age-old,
famous stuffing recipe or into the luxurious,
rich mountains of golden baked pineapple.

I frequently found myself sitting on
the suitcase in the pantry closet and
playing with small wooden horses,
there, by the bread box. I wondered
what the stale bread would be by
dinner time…

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