Andrew Taylor-Troutman

Daffodils bloom their sunshiney faces in early spring, though a cold snap is sure to come. Their cheerfulness makes me turn my face toward the sun.

UNC’s 2026 Frank B. Hanes Writer-In-Residence Reading was given this Monday, March 2, by Ross Gay, one of my favorite writers.

I’m fine. Pretty good, I guess. Well, there’s a lot going on. I’m busy, yes, but the country … My God, every time the President opens his mouth, another lie!

Both Lent and Ramadan began this past week, which means billions of people around the world will practice a form of fasting.

I wonder how many Super Bowl fans who complained about the halftime show also ate tortilla chips and salsa.

In the South, we say that if snow stays for five days, it’s waiting for more. The maxim proved true over the weekend. While my neighborhood received less snow than other parts of the Tar Heel State, my kids had enough to go sledding and make a snow fairy — a miniature snow woman with pine needles as a skirt and a crown of red berries.

For several mornings, I have slipped downstairs while the rest of my family was still asleep and fixed coffee to the sound of the dripping faucet. We left it running to prevent the pipes from freezing. Drip, drip, drip—it sounds like a clicking metronome.

The woman exclaimed, “This is dope!” I would typically not associate such an exclamation of praise with standing on a bridge over Highway 421 in the cold, while squinting into the dusk at approaching police lights.

I first learned the name Renée Nicole Macklin Good because of her brutal killing on January 7, 2026. I want to remember her as a talented poet.

After my parents were revealed as the tooth fairy and Santa Claus, I still held the belief that the ocean was inside a conch shell, even when I pressed my ear to the shell back at home in Raleigh.