My Grandmother’s Diary Imagined From Stories She Told
November 6, 1893 (Chicago) I’m nine years old, and I’m scared. Papa died yesterday. Momma…
First Spring Butterfly
On a rare sunny April afternoon, I sit on a round stone near Vic’s cairn…
Preparing for a Solar Eclipse
It will probably be cloudy here, because it’s March in the NY Finger Lakes. Still,…
After the Storm
“I lost big trees in the recent wind,” I tell the Finger Lakes Land Trust…
A Shining Light Breaking Through the Storm
"But you're bound to lose If you let the blues get you scared to feel…
Divine Mother of Breath
I groped around in the dark searching for my ringing cell phone. It had to…
Sometimes You’re the Hammer, Sometimes You’re the Anvil
I hear my husband Vic's favorite words when he felt pounded by life. "Sometimes you're…
Aging in Place–with Help
On January 7, thick wet snow fell for the first time this winter. I wasn’t…
At Winter Solstice
A man I’ve known since he was a boy put up his yearly Holiday Star,…
Grandmother Moon
She glides across clear night skies, growing larger and brighter and fuller as I watch…