It was the lawnmower that did it. We have a cottage in P.E.I. Why P.E.I?
Articles by Barry Lazar
“Hey old man,” my daughter calls me. And I laugh, wearing the phrase lightly. I don’t consider myself old (who does?).
The sprig of mint was part of the delicious but unpronounceable Thai salad. My mate took it and put it to the side. “I’m going to take it home and grow it,” she said.
April is the cruellest month, wrote T.S. Elliot. It’s cruel, he implies, because it disturbs. But, in April, something starts to happen. Here is the end of this part of the poem.
Here’s all you need. Or mostly what you need.