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The old rosebush is going dormant. The winter chill curling its brown leaves, Wilting its blossoms But the bud doesn’t know that So upward it turns its Cheerful baby face, Smiling at the bleak sun.   Home movies tell this old mama A similar story. In this season, while aches penetrate My swollen joints, curling…

My mother’s friend when I was a kid Was different in every way you could name: Her German accent, her musical laugh And sturdy physical frame. My mother was sensible in clothing and style Imparted by her Victorian grandmother. But Gudrun grew up without a mother And had a teenage sense of glamour. If it…

Today I lost the letter “P.” It was serious.  Having lined up letters on the border of a quilt, I was trying to drag the edge up to the ironing board to affix them before stitching.  My fear was that a letter would pop off that I had so carefully traced, cut and pulled the…

The canoe page features a Makah (from Neah Bay, Washington) canoe and totem. Why the Makah? When I was in junior high, my mother was the Home Economics teacher at Neah Bay High School. Neither before nor after her time on the reservation was she treated with such respect. She had a unique and wonderful…

This time of year causes most of us to reminisce and I am no exception.  I remember one particular Christmas that held little promise of a joyful season.  My parents had recently divorced and my father had abandoned us.  My mother, recovering from having had my youngest sister, found a job teaching school in an…

6:22 a.m. I close my eyes to the alarm clock Returning to the road Flying out before me Through the desert with Distant mesas on the horizon. I can sleep one more hour. The path now takes me Through the redwoods And onto the beaches To hear waves crashing. 6:37 a.m. No, I cry. I…