My mom was a winter person. I am not. Whereas she looked upon winter as the time of year when everything good happens—such as snowmen, Christmas carols, and arctic temperatures—I still look upon winter much the same as a smart bear would. When the weatherman forecasts the first warning of frost, I eat a big… Continue reading Let It Snow!

A tall mulberry tree old as the hills stood alongside a curve in the road to tell us young boys we were on the home stretch. The tree signaled to us, standing watch like a sentinel in the night, as we walked past it on our way back from the river. Over the years, and… Continue reading The Mulberry Tree

My mom never had a pedometer until late in life. By the time someone gave her a Fitbit, she was worn out from all the steps she had taken in her life. In her day, people didn’t need a watch on their wrist to remind them to walk a certain number of steps each day.… Continue reading Hang ‘Em Out to Dry

Somehow, her name was forgotten. Not even her brothers and sisters remembered it. Not that they are to be blamed entirely, not all of them, since a number of them never knew her. The three who preceded her in birth may have known her name, but that is unlikely, since they were only six, four,… Continue reading The Flicker of a Star