Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • Winter I don’t trust you.
    This late entrance, these half-assed excuses.

    You were supposed to bring the rains late October when the persimmons arrived. No later than November when leeks came. Winter break rolled around and we were supposed to build our ark as you forced us (and the ants) inside and set us afloat in our own damp worlds.

    Instead we cautiously enjoyed dangerously sunny days. Making trips to the beach, noting low reservoirs and browned hills as we rolled the windows down and turned our eyes to the sky. We became embarrassed by the raccoon tans caused by too many afternoons in sunglasses.

    We looked West for you, we smelled the air expectantly. But you sent fog as your proxy because apparently you had better things to do.

    C’mon. We don’t even have seasons here, just The Rainy Months and The Sunny Months. But you were too busy chilling, knowing everyone would be glad to see you whenever you decided to show up.

    So here it is the ides of March and we’re supposed to be laying down new soil, transplanting peas and tomatoes. And you decided this week you were ready to make an entrance. You sent a chill and a wind and now non-stop rain.

    Nonchalance doesn’t make you cool. Only arrogant.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.