Yesterday in Sunday School, someone brought me a picture. Just a simple gesture, a print he had run off his computer, but it was a picture of several of us who went to Ireland a couple of years go, including his wife and me. There we were, wearing coats against a stone wall of the […]
May 22, 2016
Last Rays of the Setting Sun
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Last night, Nemo and I sat on the deck and watched the day end. The last rays of the setting sun tipped the tree tops with gold. Robins noisily settled in for the night. A tree frog began his creaky song. Nemo patrolled the yard to be sure all the lions and tigers were scared […]
May 17, 2016
An Emerald-Green Morning
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The greenness of trees gradually emerge through the darkness. It’s a wet morning. Street and driveway glisten with rain. Nemo, after a brief trip to the yard, could hardly wait to come back inside. Looking out, the new day seems to be made of two shades: darkness and green, the color of emeralds, the color of […]
May 15, 2016
As My World Turns
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I’m actually writing this Saturday evening, not Sunday morning. The sun has dipped below the horizon. From where I sit, the world seems impossibly quiet and peaceful. I’m grateful, knowing that it certainly isn’t quiet and peaceful in many other places. It has been a good day; any day spent with my family is a […]
May 9, 2016
Within the Walls of a Mystery
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Old houses have a certain mystique and charm that newer houses do not possess. I enjoy looking at them in person and I also like to read descriptions of them when they are offered for sale. Of course, only positives are stressed; the fine workmanship, the many rooms, the connection with the past. Negative aspects […]
May 4, 2016
A Shiver, a Shudder, and a Creepy Feeling
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Someone once told me she wasn’t sure my books were cozies. Surprising. I thought they were. Then, I realized she meant that sometimes they lost their coziness and became downright scary. I agree they aren’t exactly bedtime stories. Here are some random excerpts, taken from Moonlight Can Be Murder: Ulysses stood, white fangs bared. Why didn’t Vermouth […]
