B.B. Boudreau

Novelist | Singer

Small Things II–More Piping Plovers

I search out the plover mom and the chicks in the creek, just south of Good Harbor Beach, where tidal water fills and empties twice daily from the marsh. I almost step on them in my quest. They are huddled in a shallow trench that someone dug into the wet sand. The mom breaks and…

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The Small Things

Extraordinary things can happen as long as we focus on doing little ordinary tasks every day. Trent Preszler—episode on CBS Sunday Morning I’m over 60 now, and at times I feel I haven’t accomplished much in life, particularly when I watch a show like CBS Sunday Morning and witness the incredible lives of notable individuals…

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A Dog with No Name

After our rescue with Skip was a no-go, we decided to wait for a while. It felt like a failure, though I knew it wasn’t our fault. I pondered how lucky I had been with my Lila, who was also a rescue; neglected and possibly abused. She loved the family who had purchased her but…

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Her Last Day

She is panting for no reason. The day before she seized several times. During one episode, she fell, peed herself and landed on her side at the brink of the open stairs off the deck. I had to catch her to keep her from falling down the flight. Last night she woke me twice and…

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What do I do? A blend of Zen and Ferocity

We’re all used to COVID by now. I read back through my terrified entries about washing groceries, avoiding any contact with people besides my husband, and fighting my terror of touching anything that doesn’t exist within the walls of my own house. No one has been here, and the house looks like it wouldn’t be…

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Birthday Plans?

Options

The new news is that now we are encouraged to wear masks. Even though Mr. Big in the White House claims he will not. I think Darwin himself would not argue with that decision. Our normally free existence has become a sci-fi movie. I remember just recently (pre-COVID) walking down the street and trying to…

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Return to the Source

Last Day of March. Most of my garden has been cleaned. Only the edges of the driveway remain cocooned in last year’s leaves, a heavy blanket that resists the rake. Those shielding leaves take their job seriously, layering perfectly in alternate patterns, allowing the spring rain to percolate through. When the emerging shoots are finally…

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Holding Hands

We’re in our 25th year of marriage, which sounds impossible to start with. Al was 55 when we got married in Zaire, so even if we try to deny the passage of time, he is in that undesirable “elderly” category. That category was undesirable even before this virus. And though some information on COVID-19 has…

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Calling coyotes in Montana–1980

Wild encounters are magical for those who love wild surroundings and their native residents. I often find myself talking to birds, deer, woodchucks and other animals as easily as chatting with someone in line at a supermarket. The craving for these experiences has led me to episodes which live in my brain like an old…

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