The Reindeer Keeper

Even when I was growing up I loved writing poems. Some were short and funny. Others were long and serious. When playing in our chicken coop clubhouse my cousin and I would write poems. One my cousin wrote remains a favorite from back then: 'Bees make honey-They make it so funny-You'd think they'd say it's a funny day-But it's not-It's not even hot-That's what they say!' We'd laugh every time we'd recite that little ditty. Since those days I've learned there are different types of poems, each with their own rules. I still enjoy writing poems. They make you think. They lighten your load. They offer you an avenue of expression. Since April is National Poetry Month I'd lke to share a few with you and remember-'Poems make you giggle-They make your tongue wiggle!' While I don't remember what type of poem each of these represents or what rules they follow-I hope you enjoy them! SUNFLOWERS 'Tall and lanky swaying in the br

As I was writing 'The Snowman Maker'-my next Christmas novel to be released October, 2013, I found myself again drawing from childhood experiences of growing up in the country and weaving some of those threads into the storyline. Of course when the story is fiction, the possibilities are endless for the plot and for the characters who-by the time the last word is written-have become part of the writer's family. It's funny when you create characters their lives are in your hands. You decide their hair color-gender-views, etc.-but most important, you decide their fate. Scenes where emotions run high-run high for the writer as well. There have been scenes in both 'The Reindeer Keeper' and this upcoming release where I've laughed-cried-and felt anger towards a character. And when I found I had to write something into the story that caused such emotions, after it was on the page I'd have to get up and take a break. And once the book is published and out the

My grandfather died when I was in the sixth grade. Any memories I have of the man are of when he was older so when I came across this photo showing him with two of his six daughters I couldn't take my eyes off him. I don't know how old he was when this was taken. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that it offers me a glimpse of my grandfather as a young father-dressed up and obviously on his way somewhere with daughter Ruth on his lap-and my mother in her little knit hat and buttoned-up coat by his side. It looks like they are in some sort of a sleigh with blankets. Wih that top hat and wool coat, my grandfather reminds me of Abe Lincoln-minus the beard. I remember him to have been tall and thin with Beech-Nut chewing tobacco in his back pocket. I remember him wearing suspenders and reading at night in the front parlor. Besides showing my grandfather as I'd never seen him before, this photo offers another glimpse of the barn I always write about. The more I find

I love this old glossy photo of the kitchen in my grandparents' farmhouse. I only wish it showed more. It was a big kitchen but then it had to be with the meals being cooked and breads and cookies being baked and produce from the garden being cleaned, cooked or canned. You can see how the wood stove was the focal point. That pot in the forefront was the main one used for cooking just about everything. Behind it is the tea kettle always full of water. Up on top you can see a pie cooling. It was fun watching my grandmother bake her pies. Of course the crusts never came from a box in the dairy aisle like mind do. They were mixed and kneaded and water was added along with the Crisco and flour and a dash of salt until the consistency was just so. Then the dough was shaped into balls, rolled out, and filled with apples or raisins or pumpkin or mince meat or lemon pudding eventually topped with the fluffiest meringue ever. And this was done in-between everything else she had to do. Th