By morning, the sky had cleared, lending contrast enough for a photograph or two. Here is the snowfall as seen from the porch door. I
I sit on the couch in my bed-sitting room, watching the snow fall outside the window. It masks the ground and the water beyond. I’m
Sleepy Creek under full moon. The view from the old house. We’re up a ways, past the woods to the left in that picture, so
I’ve moved my blog and turned pieces of my former website into pages here. I hope you’ll find the navigation easier to perform. You can
Bobby Weaver has written the book we’ve all imagined — because we’ve all seen it in action: the church goer who decides she’s the gatekeeper;
I’ve been an editor for over thirty years, and some things drive me crazy. This may not interest you at all. That’s fine, but today
The first time I read one of Jane Lebak’s stories, I wanted to cheer. Jane makes me laugh and sometimes shed a tear or two.
Nicole Petrino-Salter is a friend of mine. I’ve never met her, but I believe I know her heart. She’s also a writer. Her gift as
We’re home again, all 600 of us, recovering from lack of sleep and too much good food. I’d been warned about the food, but thought
The cover caught my attention: red, with an overturned, spike-heeled shoe, and the title Rhapsody in Red captured below. It was obviously a mystery, as