Women carry the essence of Christmas in the home. The decorations, the cookies, the activities flow through the efforts of moms’ orchestration. Cards are initiated from her desk, representing well wishes of the family. Gift exchanges at school happen because mom remembers. Women carry the chaotic schedules of social dynamics all wanting to capitalize on the joy of the season. Finding time to breathe while making things merry and bright pulls tension into the beauty of light a

How many forms of birth control existed half a century ago is not a fact I know. What I do know is my mom couldn’t get her fitted diaphragm to fit. They already had two children and a poodle. The age gap was perfectly two years and two months apart appropriately dating sufficiently more than nine months after matrimony. My mother, the home economics teacher, who manicured her lawn with scissors along the fence line, had a perfect life. She had achieved so much as a first-gene

Mom served liver that night. The only thing worse would have been liver with spinach or maybe the soggy Brussel sprouts of the seventies. Before I could go to see my first movie at the cinema, I had to eat my slice of liver. I had to make a happy plate. My sisters stood around the table, cheering me to take one more bite. The four-year-old heart inside felt indignant at this trickery. How could my mother put such high stakes on something I desired? Whether a compromise was ma

The pink line darkened, solidifying the pregnancy test’s prophecy. Parent, more specifically mother would be my new name. What did my husband and I do? We wrote a note for his family in case we didn’t return, loaded the Honda CBX 750, and rode to Paris from Prague. We slept behind a hops field, in a small tent, behind a chateau, in a small field, wherever the road took us. Free and open to the air, we saw mountains and believed we could touch the sky. We drove over stone brid

When I took on the story of Ötzi the Iceman, I knew I couldn't assume I knew men. After 31 years of marriage, I cannot claim privileged access into the mysteries known as my husband's thinking. He still surprises me. Ötzi was nothing like me. He lived over 5000 years ago. He climbed mountains for a commute. He probably liked the cold. He was nothing like me. To be a believable character, I needed to fight to find a way past a woman's perspective. At first, I tried writing how

A point of discussion with my editor centered around my description of the shades of shadows. Many scenes in Shroud of Ice are couched under the light of the moon. My family often walked out into the moonlight whether to a bonfire or to identify the stars, we looked to the heavens for the strength of light pushing through the overwhelming darkness. That's where I discovered shadows have colors. It's not a question of black or white. The night's light pulses with depth of pe

Over 500 versions of the Cinderella fairytale have been found. Popelka is the Czech version of this story. Popelka is a pretty maiden...

If you said I held an acorn, you wouldn't be wrong, but you wouldn't be completely right. Some might say this is a shell holding the...

One of the themes of Shroud of Ice spins around the question are we enough. Behind every life changing decision lurks these words of...

We celebrate Thankful Thursday at my new school. We sit family style around a large table, a parent brings in food to share, and we enjoy...

This catch phrase for Shroud of Ice  lingers with me. What if the past isn't dead? What if it is just waiting to be remembered? So much...

My son just brought a puppy home. Okay but what kept me from writing even before the puppy? Well, I have a lot to do, I’m not feeling it,...

“An Author to her Book” is a poem by Anne Bradstreet that I used to enjoy teaching. She addresses her book as her child personifying the...

Standing on the edge of my lavender garden feels like staring into the abyss of why did I try? I enjoyed a respectable harvest this...

“There’s nothing like the feeling of bringing in a herd” is a City Slicker movie quote that I like. Three best friends, messed up in a...

“The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires.” – William Arthur...

The garden is my passion. I fall in love with it and then have a break up in July when it's too hot. We always make amends in the fall....

Ötzi's life ended in a seemingly insignificant manner. His impact, however, tells a much different tale of a mountain legacy. Here's one...

This past July I found myself on the side of the Similaun Mountain wondering what I had gotten myself into. I earned an Excellence in...

In less than three weeks, I will have hiked to where Ötzi was found and be heading down the Italian side of the Similaun Mountain. If all...