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Pea Pickle Farm: those idyllic hours between cluster fly hell and tickie time
http://www.peapicklefarm.com/2013/05/those-idyllic-hours-between-cluster-fly.html
The Writing / The Books. Sunday, May 12, 2013. Those idyllic hours between cluster fly hell and tickie time. The cluster fly myths listed below have been seen on the Internet at one time or another. Please feel free to do your own research. Millions of cluster flies were killed in preparation for this post. Yes, the cluster flies have vanished, poof. Gone shortly after the first of May, and I am pretty sure as long as it snows now and then the ticks will hang back. Let’s back up. 8221; The reply? Cluster...
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Pea Pickle Farm: The Beeswax
http://www.peapicklefarm.com/p/the-beeswax.html
The Writing / The Books. I have been making beeswax candles, ornaments, and lip balm since 2009 and this year began making what I call “beeswax rag flags”—cloth collages dipped and sealed in beeswax. (Back in 2010, 2011, I was making beeswax collages in old hive frames.) I sell online through Etsy. And am in my seventh year as a vendor at the Downtown Marquette Farmers Market. In Marquette, Michigan. You can find my candles and beeswax blocks at the Marquette Food Co-op. At the Old Town General Store.
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Pea Pickle Farm: August 2015
http://www.peapicklefarm.com/2015_08_01_archive.html
The Writing / The Books. Sunday, August 30, 2015. The gifts of a fifty-eighth birthday and a peek in the dictionary / gratitude and appreciation / then, cluster flies. Cool and cloudy with a snappy northwest breeze, a spit of rain. Morning view of the north field ’twixt the cabin and the river. First successful mouse trapping of the season. (Yes, first thing, dead mouse! No, wait, first thing is Josie, all excited, waking up, licking my face. thump thump thump. AKA Josie the Ever-Watchful. All sorts of e...
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Pea Pickle Farm: the italian poet and the comma queen: a summer romance with a bit of old russian and murder
http://www.peapicklefarm.com/2015/08/the-italian-poet-and-comma-queen-summer.html
The Writing / The Books. Sunday, August 2, 2015. The italian poet and the comma queen: a summer romance with a bit of old russian and murder. First and foremost, I am an idiot. Yes, yes, it’s true. Despite your protestations, faint as they seem to be (that is a protestation, right? I am an idiot. Please, do not try to persuade me to the contrary. I know what I know and the evidence room is stacked floor to ceiling, items neatly tagged with dates and places, all those reminders, all that evidence! And wou...
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Pea Pickle Farm: July 2015
http://www.peapicklefarm.com/2015_07_01_archive.html
The Writing / The Books. Sunday, July 26, 2015. I wish my father had a grave. I wish my father had a grave. Where I could kneel and say. 8220;i’m sorry”. Where I could kneel and say. 8220;i love you”. Where I could kneel and say. Boy, Dad, you sure would love these Cubs this year. I wonder what you’d think of magic in the clubhouse,. No undershirts, pitchers batting eighth, and. Eight games over .500. I wish my father had a grave. So I could go and sit in silence. I wish my father had a grave. Where Gran...
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Pea Pickle Farm: The Writing / The Books
http://www.peapicklefarm.com/p/the-writing.html
The Writing / The Books. The Writing / The Books. On the cusp of the fourth anniversary of Pea Pickle Farm, I confess—. I also enjoy putting together small books—chapbooks, I guess they are called—and the latest are listed below, available for purchase through Etsy. At my booth at the Downtown Marquette Farmers Market. Ode to a Beeswax Turtle. At the downtown marquette farmers market). Seven Poems of Dogs. A Farewell to Buster. 8220;A Farewell to Buster” remembers a dog, tells of his passing, tells...
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Pea Pickle Farm: i is for independence, or, eleven years gone
http://www.peapicklefarm.com/2015/07/i-is-for-independence-or-eleven-years.html
The Writing / The Books. Sunday, July 5, 2015. I is for independence, or, eleven years gone. Quickly I realize how much I would rather be reading this book, at night, with lamplight, holding it in my hands, but listening to it? Or maybe the point was that poets are crazy. But, before then, way back when rounding the Keweenaw Bay, I stopped for this picture. Driving home, I listen to Disc Two of “H is for Hawk,” but my mind wanders, feels sleepy. Earlier in the week, I saw a deer hoof in the river. And no...
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Pea Pickle Farm: i wish my father had a grave
http://www.peapicklefarm.com/2015/07/i-wish-my-father-had-grave.html
The Writing / The Books. Sunday, July 26, 2015. I wish my father had a grave. I wish my father had a grave. Where I could kneel and say. 8220;i’m sorry”. Where I could kneel and say. 8220;i love you”. Where I could kneel and say. Boy, Dad, you sure would love these Cubs this year. I wonder what you’d think of magic in the clubhouse,. No undershirts, pitchers batting eighth, and. Eight games over .500. I wish my father had a grave. So I could go and sit in silence. I wish my father had a grave. Where Gran...
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Pea Pickle Farm: wild flowers and night out with Josie: daisy, daisy
http://www.peapicklefarm.com/2015/06/wild-flowers-and-night-out-with-josie.html
The Writing / The Books. Sunday, June 21, 2015. Wild flowers and night out with Josie: daisy, daisy. After a day and a half of grey skies and rain, blue skies and sun. It is mid-afternoon, I feel drowsy. Josie and I go out on the porch. He settles down on the step. I check back inside for Elliott, does he want to join us? But no, he is settled in the chair. The sky is blue, yet laced with gauzy remnants of rainy days past. Maneuver—flying back and forth in a U. Nah I am pretty sure he has four left feet.
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Pea Pickle Farm: culture shock in a hockey arena during a rainy week in june, or why did the turtle cross the road?
http://www.peapicklefarm.com/2013/06/culture-shock-in-hockey-arena-during.html
The Writing / The Books. Sunday, June 23, 2013. Culture shock in a hockey arena during a rainy week in june, or why did the turtle cross the road? I woke twice to Elliott’s strange yowl-meow. And the very last thing I wanted to do was to leave this world to go sell beeswax candles in some other world. And here’s one part of this—who in this arena did I know? Hmmm … It gives one great freedom to know no one, but it also constrains one to relying on oneself or to relying on strangers. So what is normal?
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