Category Archives: Ukrainian stories

Blue Christmas, Blue Birds, Blue Water

I walked to church yesterday for the Blue Christmas service.  I wore that very expensive coat I bought twenty years ago as a Christmas present for myself, and, at the time trembled as I gave the card to the cashier, … Continue reading

Posted in Always the Garden, Eating, Drinking, Cooking, Ukrainian stories, Uncategorized | 11 Comments

The Blue Whales Are Coming

I sat out there in the garden just a while ago.  And while the world outside was raging in hot winds and fires and pestilence and murders and all sorts of heinous human things, in the garden still, now and … Continue reading

Posted in Always the Garden, Eating, Drinking, Cooking, Ukrainian stories, Uncategorized | 9 Comments

Chrysanthemums, The Beautiful, and Dmitri Hvorostovsky

There are some people, when they die, whether you know them personally or not, when they die someone digs a deep hole in your heart. Makes you feel dizzy like all the blood just drained out, like all the evil vampires just got you. Makes you cold and frightened uncertain of where your hands or feet or face are. Continue reading

Posted in Always the Garden, Dmitri Hvorostovsky, Eating, Drinking, Cooking, Ukrainian stories, Uncategorized | Tagged | 37 Comments

The White Trees of Easter

There was a sea of madness surrounding me or maybe I was the sea. Then morning, how still, how white, how blue, how beautiful it all was. Why did I go and buy all those flowers the last minute on … Continue reading

Posted in Always the Garden, Eating, Drinking, Cooking, Ukrainian stories, Uncategorized | 16 Comments

Ukrainian Christmas Missing

Like a missing person it seems I will never find Ukrainian Christmas again.  It is now  almost gone completely, even from my memory.  How to bring it back again?  I can’t even find a real Ukrainian person to talk to. … Continue reading

Posted in Eating, Drinking, Cooking, Ukrainian stories | 1 Comment

The Scorching Table of Thanks

via Daily Prompt: Scorched I remember pictures.   That burning child in Vietnam 1972.  All the scorched things in this earth on her little child face.  My front lawn 1995, just back from Ukraine but elated, thinking maybe the war was … Continue reading

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This Savage Place

Almost all the leaves blew off the maple last night. Suddenly Indian summer, the prolonged weird heat just vanished and cold and wind took its place.  My mother used to hate the wind.  She stood at the doorway howling at … Continue reading

Posted in Bus Stop Stories, Ukrainian stories, Uncategorized | Leave a comment