Finding Creativity On Prince Edward Island
Our third day on Prince Edward Island, when I spilled water in our rental car, my husband mopped it up with a napkin and asked, “Your creative juices overflowing again?” I’d spent the last few hours, as we drove along the
Why I Write Amish Fiction
I drank in the images of the Amish community, as if I were a thirsty explorer having stumbled upon an oasis: the greenhouse redolent with blooms; the sturdy grandmother in the beige kerchief watching us Englischer customers with a mixture
I Was Here ~ Leaving Our Mark Through Oral History
Last week I received a letter from a ninety-two-year-old war veteran—written on his forty-five-year-old Smith Corona—which asked if I knew how he could go about recording his life. He shared with me his highlights, his history, and it brought me
What This Writer Learned From Pulling Weeds
Every day, before my toddler’s nap, we walk out to the garden hand in hand. She loves to sniff the tomatoes and pop them off the vines when they are nothing but hard green marbles, barely sprouted from the yellowing flower.
The Promise of Spring
. In the fall, parchment leaves were windswept around the double doors. Taking a breath, I pulled one open and entered the brick building. I sat in the waiting area—surrounded by pictures of babies, pregnant women whose hands were cups protectively
Giving Up My “Cool Mom” Card
Five years ago, my husband and I declared that we would never—under any circumstance—be one of those couples who cave after a few children and purchase a minivan. This past Wednesday, my husband and I journeyed through the snow and
The Miracle of Love
It was one of those nights where I wished my daughter could put herself to bed. I was bone-tired and eager to change into my pajamas, curl up beside my husband with a cup of tea and a book. And
True Love’s Not Always Pretty
Three Valentine's ago, my husband and I discovered that our daughter was footling breech a week before her due date. We spent that night with bags of frozen peas on my massive belly, elephant walking around the house, playing Beethoven,
The Mantle Clock
In the quiet of the living room, I listen to the clock ticking on the mantle ledge—ticking off the time I can never get back. And yet, I sit here still . . . still staring out the window at
A Light From The Shadows Shall Spring
All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost, The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring, Renewed shall