The Latest
A funny thing happens in this issue of Wissahickon. It’s a celebration of beauty and bounty, sure, but that’s not all.
It’s April, the sun is shining, but there’s still a slight chill in the morning air. Amanda Staples is already covered in dirt as she unlocks a gate and welcomes me into her garden.
Sometimes they’d head to a local pool, and in more exhilarating cases, splash into a waterway, whether they were supposed to be there or not.
Lonnie Smith peered inside the vent and saw crumpled pieces of paper. On each page was a cartoon, images drawn by his 7-year-old son, who rarely spoke, but often screamed and yelled.
