• Wild Blackberry Banter

    My first reaction to a situation tells me a lot about me. ******* If you were to unexpectedly drop by Peacock Prairie late in the morning, ideally this would be my reaction: Dog barks. I stop my writing and look up from my computer. Someone’s here. Who could it be? Pre-showered, in a mis-matched outfit,… Continue Reading

  • Cascades of Old-fashioned Creamy Pink Roses

    Tucked away in my memories like old lace in the linen closet are childhood visits to the neighboring farmhouse. Climbing the secret stairs under towering maples, my siblings and I knew to circle round to the back porch in search of chewy oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies and a coveted visit. In June, the perimeter of the… Continue Reading

  • Rainbow Splashes

    Nature’s palette paints the morning. Rainbow colors everywhere. Feathered friends in springtime splendor, Sing a sunrise love affair. Cheerful fellow, rosy blush. Splashy orange in jelly rush. Goldfinch robed in yellow hue, Warbler cloaked in dazzling blue. Hummer green among the blooms. Purple martins, crowded rooms. Who am I amongst this beauty? Who am I amidst this flair?… Continue Reading

  • The Stump in the Meadow

    A stump sat in the middle of a meadow brimming with wildflowers, and weeds, and butterflies, and birdsong, and little creatures. Each morning, as the sun rose, a wise old man sank onto that stump. And the wisdom of the ages filled him. It was more than enough. One still morning, the stump sat empty.… Continue Reading

  • The Visit

    Spring was here, and then. . . it wasn’t. Along with the snow, my older son returned home for a week’s break from college. Let the good times roll! He used to be such a big part of my daily life, but now I sit on the periphery and watch. Sometimes he asks for my… Continue Reading

  • The Pendulum

    Yesterday’s snowdrops lie . . . under a snow drop. Yesterday’s field of elegant beige . . . lies buried beneath a frosted blue haze. Yesterday’s patchwork . . . now shimmers in silver. Yesterday’s stillness . . . is shattered by birdsong. Yesterday’s growth . . . awaits the next thaw. Spring’s early glimmer… Continue Reading

  • Tea Time

    November 6, 2015 If I could. . . I’d light a crackling fire, sit you down in a comfy chair with your favorite book and a view of the pond out back. I’d crack a window to fill your ears with nature sounds– the meandering leaf-swirling wind, the Caw of a solitary crow. I’d serve you a… Continue Reading