![Rain, Rain, Go Away–Ellis Conklin](https://hoffmanarts.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/umbrella-with-rain-for-web.jpg)
Rain, Rain, Go Away–Ellis Conklin
Fiction: As it happened, I was passing through Rainy Springs, Oregon, that rain-swept evening when I met a peculiar woman named Lola. It was late October and I hadn’t seen
![The Colors of Childhood–Megan Lucas](https://hoffmanarts.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/color-pastels-for-web.jpg)
The Colors of Childhood–Megan Lucas
Memoir: I attended Irvington grade school in Portland in the 80’s, and we lived nearby on the cobbly Tillamook Street. It was lined with Chestnut trees; in the fall I’d
![Why There is no Brown in the Rainbow–Lynn B. Connor](https://hoffmanarts.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/rainbow-for-web.jpg)
Why There is no Brown in the Rainbow–Lynn B. Connor
Fiction: The Sun chased the Clouds from the sky. “The earth below needs my rays to warm the days and make things grow. I should rule the sky,” said the
![Synesthesia–Iris Sullivan Daire](https://hoffmanarts.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/waves-of-color-for-web.jpg)
Synesthesia–Iris Sullivan Daire
Memoir: Color has had a hold on her for as long as can be remembered. From a young age it was noted that she often changed clothes several times a
![Season’s Greetings–Tom Lackaff](https://hoffmanarts.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/purple-tulips-for-web.jpg)
Season’s Greetings–Tom Lackaff
Oh spring, I pray you will endure Another ode to your allure; Still shadows harbor ice and snow, But loyalists to winter show Their colors when the heat is on,
![My History of Wall Paint–Kathie Hightower](https://hoffmanarts.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/paint-chips-for-web.jpg)
My History of Wall Paint–Kathie Hightower
Memoir: I grew up with white walls. And I wonder now, didn’t everyone back in the 1950’s and 1960’s and 1970’s? Or was it because we lived in government housing,
![Blue Heart-Andy Barker](https://hoffmanarts.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/blue-boat-for-web.jpg)
Blue Heart-Andy Barker
Fiction: Lucius is unmoored, unanchored, untethered. Nothing holding him to his life where it should be. He lies awake, alone in the dark. There’s that time, sailing with the kids
![The Blue Door-Ellis Conklin](https://hoffmanarts.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/blue-door-for-web.jpg)
The Blue Door-Ellis Conklin
Memoir: A couple of newspaper reporters talking, Seattle, 1994. It’s June. They’re sharing a small table by the coffee pot in the corner of the newsroom. A lemon-iced sheet cake
![Three Summers-TheresAnn Bosserman](https://hoffmanarts.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/butterfly-on-pink-for-web.jpg)
Three Summers-TheresAnn Bosserman
Memoir: Roses The light that evening slanted across the porch through the white sun blinds and between the posts of the gray porch railing in golden streams. The rare roses
![Mr. Hobo Risin’-Tom Lackaff](https://hoffmanarts.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/trainwheels-for-web.jpg)
Mr. Hobo Risin’-Tom Lackaff
Memoir: The first time you jump on a moving train, it feels like flying. Many of the elements of flight are there: steady forward motion, exhilarating wind in your face,