A couple of years ago, I posted this poem about the swing in my back yard. Even though I wrote it in November 2013 and this is January 2016, I’m re-posting here because the swing is still there. My grandchildren out-grew him long ago but I keep him. Maybe he reminds me of the real life […]
Jan 18, 2016
Commemoration
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Yesterday, January 17, was National Sanctity of Human Life Day, a commemoration of the importance of life. President Reagan first set aside this day in 1984 in remembrance of unborn children who are killed by abortion. Presidents H. W. Bush and George Bush continued this observance. To me, it’s sad that there is a need for […]
Jan 16, 2016
Why Do I Write?
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I have been pondering that question this morning. Why, indeed, do I write? Writing takes up hours, days, weeks, months of my life. Writing is pouring my heart and soul into the life of my characters. It is taking words and forming them into a person. But then (and this is the best part) using only […]
Jan 15, 2016
A Flurry of Fur and Feathers
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Outside my window, the maple stretches dark, mostly bare branches to the sky. Arching over my driveway, the slimmer, barer arms of the white mulberry entwine with the maple. At the edge of my container garden, the crepe myrtle’s limbs, twisted and bare of bark, rise past the eaves. These trees and shrub are a playground for squirrels […]
Jan 14, 2016
Mysterious Mystique of Critiquing Critters
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Yesterday was a red-letter day in the life of our Cozy Critters. All six of us were together around the hundred year old table at the same time! It was great! Before Christmas Jane and her son Mark took a trip to New York City. The town was decked out in its holiday best. Jane […]
Jan 12, 2016
Tuesday Tidbits and Teasers
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Coffee, warm house, family near-by; I have no complaints and would sound surly if I did. Thank You, God. Just wondering why, when the English language contains a plethora of beautiful, gracious uplifting words from which to choose, sometimes we use the grungiest, foulest, most hateful ones in speaking or writing. I remember the days […]
