March
2014
It hadn’t occurred to me until someone at work brought it to my attention that this winter has been going on for eleven years. I said, “That can’t be. Surely not.” But then I got thinking about it. It was eleven years ago November we moved into this house. You remember, snow was just beginning and we had so much trouble getting the refrigerator down the driveway and through the door.
Mary Dear
2014
It snowed that afternoon. Heavy, wet flakes pelted my coat on my walk down the sloping drive toward Cleveland Avenue. By the time I got to the iron gate it
The Drive
2014
Not wanting to alarm my husband and infant son, in case they’ve fallen back asleep, I don’t call. I don’t even text. But I do take a picture with my camera-phone, because I need proof that I’ve done it, that I’m actually here: sitting in a 2005 Toyota Matrix, outside the Saint Anthony Park Library. This is incredible.
Silverheels
2014
It was my mom’s first marriage proposal. At eight, she was the older woman. George was only six. After hasty consideration, Mom turned him down. As she explained to her mother, she couldn’t marry George. He liked carrots. She didn’t.
Not Afraid of the Dark
2013
My father has “old age of the eyes.” That means he’s going blind slowly from the inside out. He says I look like a model with my hair swooped back. He points out a covenant of blackbirds....
Winter Coming
2013
It’s autumn. Leaves have taken over the back porch and I sit at the window, hungry for soup. You have been gone for years now...
Springtime in Minnesota
2012
In the spring of 1994, I was a writer in residence for Consortium of Associated Colleges in the Twin Cities. This meant that participating campuses would house me for seven days, and during this time I would do individual and group writing critiques, a workshop, and a formal reading for the entire campuses at St. Thomas University, Macalester College, Augsburg College, Hamline University, and College of St. Catherine.
Sleigh Ride
2012
Homemade snow pants of thick wool, ice caked on my jacket sleeves and on my mittens: I head out with my best friend, Rita doll...
Art by Patricia Bour-Schilla
Thirty Degrees Below Zero
By Mary Wlodarski ● 2012
I like the cold so brisk and fresh it cuts through clothes and crimps nose hair...
The Dead of Winter
2012
We speak of it as though it were a place, a battlefield strewn with corpses, a burial ground of shattered statues hooded with snow.