The morning is dark and cool. We’re under a tornado watch and a flood warning. Last night’s weather was wicked in many places and I haven’t yet heard of all the damage done in Oklahoma and other states. Sunday, as we drove to the cemetery for Decoration Day, we were amazed to see evidence of […]
May 20, 2019
Getting in Touch with an Old Tradition
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by blanche manos · leave a comment (edit) Yesterday, my family and I kept up the yearly tradition of putting flowers on the graves of loved ones. Decoration Day is always the same Sunday every May and has been that way for generations. The beautiful little cemetery lies in northeast Oklahoma, surrounded by trees, gentle hills, and a creek […]
May 19, 2019
Tribal Customs Continue
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Routines are nice as long as they don’t become ruts. Routines are not the same as schedules. A schedule seems rather inflexible and fixed, but a routine is a pattern that gives meaning to a day. Routines are more like tribal customs. In the dim, dark ages that many people have never experienced, those days […]
May 18, 2019
Dirt on My Hands, Sunshine in My Heart
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Why is digging in the dirt therapeutic? Maybe it isn’t for everyone, but for me, it is. Yesterday, I finally got out to the herb garden, dug out grass and weeds, and planted a few herbs, veggies, a hollyhock, and some peppers. When the sun is on my back and my hands are in the […]
May 17, 2019
Gone the Way of the Dinosaurs
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They sit on my bookshelf, alone, neglected, and looking lonely. Once they were highly valued, a world of information at my fingertips. They are my beautiful set of World Book Encyclopedias. And, they are as out-dated as the dinosaurs. Why are they out-dated and unused? The internet, of course. Why go to […]
May 15, 2019
Cornered With Nowhere to Run
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An excerpt from the soon-to-be-released Moonstruck and Murderous. Ned has gotten herself cornered. I took a deep breath. I was in a tight place with little room to move. Pushing against the inglenook’s brick wall to give myself leverage, I stood up. The brick under my hand moved. What? Was the mortar so aged […]
