By Jeanne Blum Lesinski
Where Conanicus Road dead ends at the Pettaquamscutt River that runs south into Narragansett
Bay nestled a tiny river beach, just right for tadpole tagging and shiny pebble picking, good for
looking out over the river where once we saw a sea eagle snatch a fish from the blue water and
fly off. From our home it was a half-mile walk downhill one way, with my daughters squeezed
into the cradle stroller, saving time and their short legs but not mine on the trek back. At home
we picked sand burs from socks and tees and ponytails. Toddler Christine complained, “I don’t
like sand burs. They pick on me.” A giggle erupted from her older sister. In the after-bath hours
that night, the girls and I sat on the couch for our routine storybook read. Christine snuggled into
my side as close as she could. “I a bur, Mommy,” she whispered.
Jeanne Blum Lesinski is an author of nonfiction and poetry whose works have appeared in journals, lifestyle and gardening magazines, anthologies, and online. Her poetry collection Tethers End is forthcoming from Shanti Arts. When not at her computer, she can often be found on a bicycle path, in a garden, or on a photo safari. She is Jeanne Blum Lesinski on Facebook and Instagram.
Hot Pot Magazine 