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Roses Are Red

I feel at home in a bookstore—I am at home in a bookstore. One Monday I was reporting to a co-worker on my weekend. “I only had four hours in Powell’s City of Books to look around.” He, obviously not a kindred spirit, said, “How the heck could you spend four hours in...

The Creche and the Sleigh

Dear Readers, It’s my custom to write a Christmas letter to stick into the cards I send during the holidays. I name some of the year’s events. Then I include the feelings and learnings of past twelve months. How I had been changed. The impetus to create such a missive...

God Still Goes that Road with Us

The feel of a breeze and the sound of a raging wind evoke two strong memories. I’m a participant in the first. While it was possible to swim at our own place on the St Clair River, my mother, father, and I, often accompanied by my aunt and uncle, would boat across the...

So It Seems

Bloggingyourpassion.com estimates that 500 million (500,000,000!) current websites are considered blogs, and between five and six million new blog posts are published every day. I had to sit with those numbers for several minutes before I could continue drafting this...

Five Smooth Stones

“I don’t understand why people read fiction. It’s a waste of time; you don’t learn a thing.” That was the opening of a conversation with a co-worker that happened over forty years ago. So many years back, but how could I, a passionate devotee of fiction, forget such a...

Today is an Eight

My growing up years included school, church, Brownies, and a smattering of dance and piano lessons. All of those molded and formed me.  My life was also a mix of make-believe and magic. They, too, created the person I am today. The Wishing Tree I grew up...

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