The Fairfield Review
About The Spring-Summer 2001 Edition
Greetings and welcome to summer, new readers and old friends! It's taken us a bit of time to bring forth this new edition and we thank you for your patience, and for visiting our sultry Spring-Summer 2001 issue of The Fairfield Review.
To start, we'd like to introduce you to a new short-story writer, Joe Trocino, and The Photographer's Table. This charming story is about keeping memories alive, the creative mind, and how the past is always inextricably tied to the present.
You'll notice that a few of our writers were struggling through the depths of winter when we received their works. So first, we'd like to take you off to our version of "Spring Break," starting with Regret and sorrow go solo by M.E. Hope, wonderful imagery about the packing up of one's belongings, and then second, let's fly off to Mexico, beautifully described by Kim Ovrutsky in The Streets of Oaxaca.
Repack your bags and travel to the other side of the world in Prague at Dusk, by Sam Vaknin. And then we'll take a thoughtful look back at winter in Between gray and brown, by M.E. Hope, and Carrie Sage's There Used to be Lilies, and the winter of
Two poems which carefully and gracefully touch on important and often "taboo" themes are The Secrets of White, by Tom Ross, and Surfacing, by Lisa Zaran. We then introduce two love poems of a different sort by Faith Vicinanza: Omen and Forgone.
Getting back in the car one last time, coming back to summer, we think you'll grin with recognition at The Mounting Quiet, by Dean Van Doleweerd. And to end our poetry section on a light, springy note, enjoy Ruth Dombrow's Natural Selection finish on the steamy side with Summer 1981 by Jack Bowman.
We think you'll like ending with Don't by Stephen Elliott, our nod towards the young author who reminds us of "Bright Lights, Big City" in this story about being in one's 20s in a contemporary NYC.
After digesting this issue of winter-into-summer writing, curl up on the sofa with Carl Sandburg's Back Yard, look out the picture window late one humid night at a summer moon, hazy bright, and think winter thoughts.
Be sure to send us your comments and suggestions for future issues by filling out our Guest Book or dropping us a note via email to mailto:firstname.lastname@example.org .
You can find a complete list of this issue's writings in the table of contents and information about contributors in About the Authors.
For all our new readers, thank you for making us part of your summer reading. For our long-standing beach buddies, it was great having you kick back in the sand with us again. This summer, we're tending our new vegetable garden: growing peas, radishes, carrots, squash, watermelon, and strawberries for the first time. Even now, we're pondering ways to keep the birds from enjoying the fruits of our labor before we can get to them ourselves.
Please send us any new fruits of thought you have, nurtured by the sun and warm rain. Let the slowly swinging hammock sing you to sleep, giving you rest from the work week, and providing rhythm and song for many salubrious summer celebrations. Be sure to send us a firecracker or two of ideas, inspirations, and irrepressible good cheer! We'll be back again in the Fall.
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Document last modified on: 01/12/2002