In the city, Spring was my least favorite of seasons Winter kept the streets silent Everyday rain makes people go inside and Whether th...

To understand who we are I think it is important to mine the past. . . the childhoods that formed us into who we are today. For all the re...

The little wooden sled never went very fast But that never mattered   The first few trips down the gentle slope of the back yard Were te...

Recently, while reading the blog of one of my customers from Etsy, I realized something that I feel is very critical to describing who I am ...

Listening to the NY Times Book Review podcast yesterday and one of the guests was Joe Queenan who was discussing his habit of rereading book...

When it comes to starting or maintaining blogs, more than anything else, the one thing I I hear people say about starting one is, "I ju...

I was reading a post today about making wishes. . . It struck me as such a poignantly simple and beautiful thing to do. And one of those t...