Rocks & Roots

Donna Salli

Rocks and Roots

When I was in my late teens—quiet, a bit shy around people I didn’t know well—I was hanging out one day with my cousin, whom I saw often and who knew me as well as anyone. With members of the family, I felt no reserve, and I was carrying on, chattering, about...

The Heart

I always knew I was going to write, to be a writer. When I was four, my family lived in town, close to a high school, and I would watch the kids walking by on their way to-and-from school every day. I remember the acute envy I felt. What I don’t remember, but have...

A Cat’s Tale

If you live in the sticks, you live with mice. My folks’ farm was in the sticks, a mile off the highway, ringed by woods and swamp, and many an autumn day, Mom opened a dresser drawer in the upstairs bedrooms and found her table linens chewed to shreds. Once, she even...

Rock-faced root cellar

Donna Salli - Seated - Color

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