Lenore Weiss

Molly had built a terraced garden around the diner with fruit and decorative trees followed by a circular row of shrubs and lastly, flowers—colorful zinnias and daylilies.   “Hey, Mol,” said

If it were not for the parks in the East Bay Regional District, I would be going mad, between COVID and the state of our county’s politics, white supremacists storming

“Never in a million years could I have imagined I would go up to a bank teller wearing a mask & ask for money.” Not where borders and airports stay

not so much about hydroponics or weed coming from Hawaii or Columbia heck we’ve got the Emerald Triangle questions about who has rolling papers who has matches the conversation changed

This time of year, I don’t want to talk to friends. I want to hunker down beneath my red wool blanket with its tallit of fringes. Time to light candles,

Missus Jensen flew from the diner’s serving window into the kitchen. “Hurry, Corinne. Another three orders of lentil soup!”  While Mister Jensen had been absent from the household, Arabella, took