I aim to write daily. Here are my shares from the week of July 21 through July 27. Witty, dreamy, whimsical, eerie—what have you?
July 22, Tue, 2025 #
Dad keeps bringing home an increasing amount of black berries. This morning, he left with a large Ziploc bag; when he returned, the bag was filled to its brim. The weight of the berries had stretched the plastic so much that it must have been twice the size of the largest berry box you can buy at Costco.
July 23, Wed, 2025 #
The I-5 express lanes are still northbound only. I didn’t even attempt to get on the freeway. Instead, I zigzagged through Lynnwood and Shoreline, and crossed the Canal Bridge into downtown. I know it probably didn’t save any time, but it felt faster. Everyone prefers to run in the breeze, I think.
July 24, Thur, 2025 #
With an unmanageable amount of blackberries coming in every day, mom—as she always does—finds creative ways to make the best of the good times. Thrice a day, blackberries appear as a staple dessert after each meal. Since when do Asian households eat dessert, you ask? When there is free food on the streets, apparently.
One by one, empty jars that had sat idle for years in my cabinet begin to disappear—filled with a strange, gooey slush. Mysterious purple swirls start to show up in our morning yogurt. What used to be plain breakfast pita bread now carries a tinge of sweet and sour.
If summer lasts any longer, our neighborhood fruit store is surely going out of business.
July 25, Fri, 2025 #
Where the river bends, a few beautiful homes sit on the bank of the winding river. Hydrangeas of all kinds paint a kaleidoscope of colors along the meticulously arranged terraces leading from the dock to the house, where fountains and bronze statues of sea lions and mermaid dot the lawn. White smoke rises slowly from the chimney, filling the air with scents of apple and moss. The setting sun coats everything with a soft, shimmering blanket the color of French rosé. The whole place feels touched by magic-as if we are characters in the scene of a Studio Ghibli film.
July 26, Sat, 2025 #
The quietness of the morning suddenly broke. I opened the door trying to find the source of the commotion. Like a flash of lightning, Henry dashed through the opening with a snake between his teeth.
It was a small garter snake with a girth no larger than a pencil-black-scaled, with two striking yellow lines down its back. It writhed and coiled as Henry dragged it towards the couch. Dad soon ran in after him with a stick, trying to pry the snake from his mouth. The mighty hunter he was, Henry pinned it down with his paw, having no intention of letting go.
Desperate, dad grabbed Henry’s snack box and pieces of shredded chicken from the kitchen counter, hoping to lure him with his favorite treat. He danced around the living room, scattering treats like a flower boy at a wedding.
At last, Henry let go, dad scooped him up as Henry lunged towards a piece of chicken. I quickly grabbed the snake and released it into the bushes outside.
July 27, Sun, 2025 #
We scored our most interesting find beneath a dead tree stump. Chopped down long ago, its mangled roots had created a labyrinth of tunnels and hiding spots. In one of its compartments sat two tin boxes the color of fresh lime, each with a frog face – goofy-eyed and scarlet-tongued –printed on the front.
“Frog Rock,” it said on the top.
I popped one open. Inside were a lipstick, a band-aid, and a small Lego figurine dressed in a yellow shirt and blue jeans. Flipping over the can, a fully scotch-guarded handwritten message read: please do not remove it.
I carefully resealed the box and put it back where it was. As we walked away, I could’ve sworn the Frog Rock kept a gaze on us.
Curated on July 27, 2025 at home In Bothell, WA