The Reindeer Keeper

  BUT THEN, LIKE MAGIC They say change happens right before our eyes. And more often than not, we never see it happen. For some, waiting for spring after a long, hard winter is tedious to say the least. One day brings sunshine: the next a blizzard. Ice covers the roads and sidewalks. Schools are closed. The wind howls. The temperature goes below zero. Oh, those heating bills. Then, the ice and snow turn to water flooding the basement. Snow piles turn into mud piles. Grass is scraggly and frozen in place. Shades of browns and greys; heaved roads, dirt and debris; cold winds, tired people still wrapped in scarves and wool hats and mittens all make it appear as if Mother Nature is asleep on the job. But Then, Like Magic, daffodils show their yellow faces, adding color to the dreariness. Robins come back. Crows squawk. Geese honk. Fields are being plowed. Tulips pop up out of the ground. The scent of lilacs is in the air, and then, more Magic. One day we go outside, and our hearts are ...

I hardly ever mention my being a writer on this blog but with the release of my new book, "Velvet Snowflakes." I thought you might enjoy learning how it came to be. I often have people asking me where my ideas come from for storylines. My reply is always the same. Storylines are all around you. The trick is to recognize them. Acknowledge them and take the time to develop them. Besides time, it takes patience. Writing is akin to putting a puzzle together. Sometimes the pieces don't fit. Sometimes a character or a scene or a conversation need reworking. That's when you have to go back and redo those pieces until you, as the writer, feel they fit. The idea for my heartwarming story, "Velvet Snowflakes" developed during the dark days of Covid when we were on lockdown. I began thinking about the meaning of home and the places I'd called home. Most of my attention turned to the first place I called home. It sat along a lane. I lived in that clapboard home pain...

The lilacs are blooming, their sweet scent drifting about the back yard, over the fields, even coming inside through the screens on the back porch. It amazes me that such a sweet scent can come from such little flowers. But then, there are so many little flowers in a cluster. I couldn't resist cutting a few and bringing them inside, arranging them in the blue vase. It was my father's vase, handed down to him from his mother. I don't remember how I end ed up with it but I am thankful I did. It makes me feel like I have something tangible from a grandmother I hardly knew. She passed away when I was quite young. I only have one vivid memory of her and in that memory, I can see the blue vase sitting on her dining room table. My older brother and I had gone with our father to visit his parents. I'm certain it was a Sunday morning. I remember wearing a pale yellow sundress with bunnies embroidered around the neckline. It must have been in the summertime because a wind...