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.
Stories (212/0)
The New Owner
Turner surveyed the shop - his very own shop, now - with complete satisfaction. It was hard getting a foothold in this tiny little town. Everyone knew everyone, everyone was related to everyone, and some days it seemed like unless you married into one of the old families and settled down within the town's defined borders, you were still an outsider, no matter how many generations had lived there.
By Meredith Harmon3 years ago in Fiction
Bait and Switch
I knew it wasn't her the moment she swung her hips through my door. My wife, you see, has a twin sister. The Harpy, I call her. Where my wife is sweet and kind and generous, her twin is the exact opposite. Anything she can do to make anyone else's life miserable, she will. I've seen her throw food at servers in restaurants, steal a homeowner's belongings when invited in, and pitch screaming fits at parties where she wasn't, and should never be, the center of attention.
By Meredith Harmon3 years ago in Fiction
This Old Treasure
Ma always said, that in time of need, dig up the treasure in the basement. We all knew about it. Ma had five sibs, and Da had ten at one time, though only six of the whole bunch lived to have kids. But we all knew. Da's great-great-great-great grandpa had buried a treasure in the basement of the house, and if we were ever in dire need, dig it up and use it.
By Meredith Harmon3 years ago in Fiction
What's Cooking?
To say I am a bad cook is an understatement. I've been kicked out of a dozen kitchens so far. Dad was the cook in our family - he was an army cook, so he knew how to get food out fast, efficiently, and with minimal fuss. There was no time to teach his kid, Mom was coming home soon and needed food. Mom was the teacher, but also not a great cook, and no time to learn, when there was teaching to do and papers to grade. So I was shoved to the side, with my curious questions and habit of being in exactly the wrong place when he was holding a heavy pot.
By Meredith Harmon3 years ago in Feast
The Frog Pond
Don't all stories start with Once Upon a Time? We always point to fairy tales, or fantastical stories, or outright bald-faced lies as Once Upon a Time. But all of our lives are one whole story, broken into readable bits by time. We think fairy tales should have a parable, or even a proverb, at the middle. Like it's some kind of speakable pearl.
By Meredith Harmon3 years ago in Fiction
Chance Encounter in a Tomb
True story. At least, it's what I remember, and we know brains are funny creatures. The story starts in 1977, when King Tut's treasures finally came to rest in our part of the country. Nowadays, a major exhibit leaving one country and traveling to another is not as big a deal, most of the red tape is dealt with quietly behind the scenes and politics are kept to a minimum. The 1970's? Cold war, us versus the rest of the world? This was a Heaping Pile of Big Deal, and I, the daughter of people who trained to be archeologists (but got real-world jobs as a teacher and blue collar worker respectively), wanted to go soooo bad I could taste it. But my parents had to work. You *never* take off work for frivolous matters, never ever. I was heartbroken.
By Meredith Harmon3 years ago in FYI
