Tag Archives: creative writing


Heat and humidity dragged relentlessly into September. In Western Pennsylvania summer seemed determined not to end. And then finally the maples thrust forth their first glorious colors and fall was here – for a few short weeks. It is my … Continue reading

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Ode to Autumn

Today the wind changed. It swooped down from the north, rustling the maple leaves and whispering through the spruce needles. Fallen leaves skipped and frolicked across the field, cartwheeling end over end. After weeks of waiting, Autumn finally made its … Continue reading

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Porch Swings and Spring Peepers

Just at dusk I walked down to put several letters in our rural mailbox. It was so lovely and warm that I sat down on the cushionless porch swing. The spring peepers were trilling their songs in our pond off … Continue reading

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I track November’s sun as it skims the southern horizon. Where once it set behind our orchard in the northwest in June, it now sets behind the barn in the southwest, never high enough in the sky to generate any … Continue reading

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The Trouble With Numbers

I think our society has become obsessed with numbers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m referring to numbers not math. We have cell numbers, S.S. numbers, bank routing numbers, account numbers, pin numbers, credit card numbers and more. Then, there are those … Continue reading

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Christmas Eve

As a child, my father took my brother, sister, and me out to the barn after the Christmas Eve Candlelight service to read the Christmas story from the Bible. My father gentle example shaped me both as a child and as an adult … Continue reading

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My cell phone has a strident alert feature announcing severe weather. It startles me, sending little shivers up my back in terror of some impending calamity. Nature sends us more subtle warnings that signal a change in the weather: a … Continue reading

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Like many of you, I spent Memorial Day weekend outside. In western Pennsylvania, we were blessed with three days of gorgeous weather, after a winter that refused to let go for months. My husband and I are the owners of … Continue reading

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I heard January in the wind last night, tearing the last oak leaves from their branches and whining through the long needles of the White Pine. January seeped beneath the doorsill, leaving frost in its wake. It carved trails in … Continue reading

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