Michigan Peaches_Waste Not, Want Lemons_The Last Scupper_Hobo Jesus Wants his Weed Money
Catalog Guide:
Michigan Peaches
She knew that underneath the gradient red to yellow skin, the apple would be equally sweet and tart. Its heaviness told her it was perfectly ripe; the juice would run down her chin when she bit into it, just like when she was seven and snacking on apples she’d picked from her grandparents’ orchards. Alex set the apple down and picked up another. Lighter, with a small bruise that just cupped the pad of her thumb. It was tempting to press in and see how deep the bruise went, see if she could break the skin with just the force of her thumb, but she refrained and put it back. Jansen would never co...
Waste Not, Want Lemons
You’re trying to grow a lemon tree in your kitchen because the world is ending. But you live in Minnesota, and you’re pretty sure your partner thinks you’re crazy for trying to grow a tropical fruit on a kitchen counter in Minnesota. But you’re committed. You’re determined. You’re going to grow a lemon tree. And then, you tell yourself, you won’t feel so bad about consuming lemons because you won’t be consuming lemons from the store; you’ll be consuming lemons that you grew right here at home. And maybe you’ll be so good at growing lemons that you’ll start a small grove of lemon trees in a gre...
The Last Scupper
“ORDER IN THE COURT…!”Trying to quell the vociferous argument playing out in front of him, Judge Elmore Rawlings frustratingly banged his wooden gavel in rapid succession.“ORDER IN MY COURT…!”The unprecedented overuse of his gavel caused such an unaccustomed vibration to the hammer end, it suddenly toppled from its accompanying stick and fell to the floor. With no audible means at his disposal to bring order to the unruly proceedings, Rawlings improvised by angrily drawing his colt pistol from its holster and firing one single shot at the ceiling. The immediate effect of this desperate action ...
Hobo Jesus Wants his Weed Money
Hobo Jesus says he’s returning to the wilderness soon. Forty-days and nights of fasting, solitude, silence, and temptation. Up in the mountains. When the snow melts. For work. He says.Before that he asks, “Don’t you still owe me some ganja?” The day is dark grey, cloudy and cool behind my sunglasses, but Hobo Jesus is wearing cargo shorts and a green t-shirt with “Heaven is a Place on Earth” in purple print, peeling across the front. He squints and shades his eyes looking up at me, so I squat down beside him on his concrete slab. I’m carewww.onedoor.ccful not to kick the “Free Palm Readings” sign set on the...