Jackamiah’s Pond

  When the night is full of mist and shooting stars abound, the oaks begin their slow descent to Jackamiah’s Pond.   They drink their fill and wash their leaves, then beckon to the moss who line up at the water’s edge and watch the Pathway’s Cross.   At three past twelve the moon aligns…

The Highest Hill We Know

Wednesday at five.   Nancy and I sit on the berm at the edge of the beach. Damp in our suits, sharing binoculars.   Scanning north, our eyes strain for a glimpse of the Hudson. Rolling dust curls, with Dad inside.   Winged, yellow Hornet. Sun flashing off chrome. Now there! Now gone.   Bare…

Writing While You Wait

My middle-grade novel, The Mystery at Moz Hollow (first in a series of three) is making its way into the big, wide world of editors and publishers – the great “out there.” It’s polished, shined, and ready to be presented to the world. It reminds me of historical novels where a young girl has her “coming out”…

Bookshelves As Storytellers

I love looking at people’s bookshelves. I guess that means I love hanging out with people who value reading and all that goes along with it. I like to see what titles people read, collect, and what they consider worthy to garner the limited space booklovers never have enough of. I have my favorites and…