Meredith Harmon
Bio
Mix equal parts anthropologist, biologist, geologist, and artisan, stir and heat in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country, sprinkle with a heaping pile of odd life experiences. Half-baked.
Achievements (21)
Stories (435)
Filter by community
Butterfly Dreams
“Once upon a time, I, Chuang Chou, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Chou. Soon I awakened, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man. Between a man and a butterfly there is necessarily a distinction.” - Master Zhuang, Chinese philosopher, one translation
By Meredith Harmon2 years ago in Fiction
Home of the Brave
I got kicked out again. I like it better than the house. It gets crowded in the bed, with all of us sleeping together. Dad wants it that way. I don't, but I'm a girl, so my opinion don't matter. It's him, his new wife, his girlfriend, his other girlfriend, and all the kids, in a big ol' bed. We shoved two queen sized together for there to be enough room.
By Meredith Harmon2 years ago in Chapters
Bitter Pill to Swallow
I'm an abalone kind of person. It's a family meme. My parents pulled me out of sixth grade for a half a year so we could tour the country. I like trying new foods, and we found a lovely little bistro in San Francisco that was selling abalone sandwiches. It. Was. AMAZING! Tasted like the best oysters EVER, melted in your mouth, not too much breading, just the best.
By Meredith Harmon2 years ago in BookClub
Me Versus The Tent
Spoiler alert: I lose. I have been a Medieval re-enactor for a long time now. From the beginning, we were urged to call it being a "Middle Ages Re-Enactor," because too many people heard "Mid Evil" instead of the term for that European period that comes before the Renaissance.
By Meredith Harmon3 years ago in Humor
The Ninth Shaft
“Jasan, LEAVE YOUR BROTHER ALONE, NOW!” Jasan moved a bit farther away from his now-screaming brother, but it wasn't until his mother leaned in and hissed “Do you want me to tell your father?” that he jumped up and ran away. His mother pulled whatever-it-was out of Jasan's hand as he bolted, and returned them to the rightful owner. The screaming immediately stopped.
By Meredith Harmon3 years ago in Fiction
