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Praying for an Onion
In my recent summer read, the little sister in the story prayed for an onion. Her family’s fortunes had recently been reversed and while other members prayed vigorously for a new house, this…
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One Thing at a Time
I’ve been ruminating for awhile about some repairs to my home as I think more and more about retiring from my day job in a few years. So I wrote a list –…
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Blueberry Muffins
I told my man that I would make him blueberry muffins. Last year. I never made those muffins. I don’t know if it was the flour getting all over the floor, my…
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1953
Pardon me while I am away. I’m visiting 1953. As a teenager, I loved pouring over my parents’ high school yearbook – Class of ’53. The fashions, the bespectacled prim “spinster” teachers, the…
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The Secret of the Garden
I felt a pang of tenderness when I glanced down at the floor in front of my mother’s bureau the other day. Neatly, side by side, were a pair of Wellington-like rubber boots…
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How Did You Know?
My grandmother sometimes called me Little Sarah Bernhardt who is the actress looking pleased with herself in the portrait above. I admit to feeling a little pleased with myself as I responded to…
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On the Tenth Day of a Feminine Christmas
The lady of the house appears to be getting a wrist watch for Christmas. I think Sister received a watch and some skates and there is Brother engrossed in the machinery of his…
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On the Eight Day of a Feminine Christmas
My grandmother had the loveliest china and she was quite proud of it. Probably because she bought it herself, piece by piece, at RH Stearns in Boston. And she used pin money which…
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On the Fifth Day of a Feminine Christmas
This idyllic Christmas doorstep really stirs me. I love everything about it…the light in the upper floor windows, the beautiful evergreen wreath, the snow. It’s old-fashioned and wistful and conjures up a feeling…
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On the First Day of a Feminine Christmas
No artists thrills me more at Christmas than Tasha Tudor and her idyllic depictions of children during the holidays. They tug at heartstrings that thread through my Christmases and make me long for…
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Remembering the Girl I Used to Be
Although many light years have passed, the girl I used to be still visits occasionally. She infiltrates my day dreams on quiet car rides and some nights she flickers before my eyes just…
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The Face Reflected
“Who sees the human face correctly? The mirror…or the artist”? ~ Picasso ~ And I would add, “or the one who loves you”? Mona has a secret in her smile. So do I. …
