• Wherefore Art Thou Peacock Prairie?

    Like the sun during today’s solar eclipse, Peacock Prairie faded until all that remained was a flicker of memories. “Why?” you ask, and you have every right. The reasons are many, but I will mention only one: lack of time; therefore, I am now blogging, using a different format. Click here to visit my new… Continue Reading

  • Autumn Swirl

    Steamy mug of spicy cider. Swirling leaves a’tumbling down. Gentle breeze evokes a shiver. Summer’s casting off her crown. Soft wind spiced with harvest’s fragrance. Melon juice drips off my chin. Crickets chirping final chorus. Autumn’s fingers reaching in. Sapphire blooms along the fencerow. Zinnias tempt with pollen binge. Pumpkin splashes dot the garden. Russet… Continue Reading

  • In a Nutshell

    Critiques crush, yet . . . I persist. Rejections rain, yet . . . I persist. Naysayers speak, yet . . . I persist. Self-doubt hovers, yet . . . I persist. I shield this self-doubt with my mantra. As an aspiring children’s writer, I’d like to proclaim my mantra written by a famous somebody… Continue Reading

  • Glory in the Meadow

    When a great teacher passes, he leaves behind . . . golden memories . . . of love . . . in God’s glorious garden of life. When a great teacher passes, he leaves behind . . . no doubts . . . of his destination. “I will be in glory,” he assures us. When… Continue Reading

  • Michilimackinac

    In the waters joining Lake Michigan and Lake Huron, near the bridge connecting Michigan’s lower peninsula to the upper peninsula, lies a hump-backed island named Michilimackinac by the Native Americans. Michilimackinac, which has been shortened to Mackinac, means “place of the great turtle.” Today the island resembles a turtle not only in shape but also… Continue Reading

  • The Possibility of the Impossible

    When the object and the subject of my prayer become one, I can move mountains. I know this to be true, for I have experienced it firsthand. It requires an intensity of focus that is not easy to achieve . . . and only comes with practice. Some call it meditation. But I call it… Continue Reading

  • Sweet Honey Buzz

    If I buzzed about in blooms, I’d chat with friends in rosy rooms. I’d sip from fragrant purple buds in polka-dotted pollen duds. I’d soar among the hollyhocks and snuggle into frilly frocks. I’d conjure up a sweetened brew that’d flow like sunshine’s golden hue. I’d rest beneath a hosta bell where perfumed dreams would… Continue Reading