April Pickle

April Pickle lives in North Texas with five other human Pickles and two Pickle dogs.


Rows and Rows of Green

By April Pickle

I was no artist. Even when I was little, I didn’t paint pictures, I painted lines. I have laughed to cover my shame about it for most of my life.

I was four years old when I stood at an easel and painted a page full of green in nursery school. I didn’t paint the sun or a tree or a rainbow. I painted green. Green lines. All green lines. Green line after green line until the page was full.

Read More ›

Eight Ounces of Canned Poem

By April Pickle

One Saturday, my friend Rebecca Reynolds bundled herself in three coats and hiked up Roan Mountain with a jar in her hand. Standing on the mountaintop, she opened the jar, read a poem into it, then sealed it shut and carried it back down the mountain.

Read More ›
[ajax_load_more author="285" post_type="post" offset="12" posts_per_page="9" pause="true" scroll="false" images_loaded="true" button_label="More Posts" button_loading_label="Loading Posts..."]