Spring Dump

It must be April in the mountains. “It’s not spring until it snows on the dogwood blossoms,” the old timers up here say. It’s a good day to make chicken soup and snickerdoodles, leaf through seed catalogs and neglected ideas.

The Intrepid Mary Moore

A couple years ago I wrote my first piece about my neighbor, the quilter and artist Mary Moore. Even today a few people a week visit the blog and read about that special day I spent with Mary. This year the North San Juan Fire Department asked me to compose an update...

Joyce’s Ambassador

I wrote the first version of this essay about ten years ago, and revised it recently. This harkens back to my college days at San Francisco State. Photos by Peggy Sue Ameson, 1984. Whenever St. Patty’s Day rolls around, I think of my old boyfriend Patrick Quinn....

One Sunday Morning at the Farm

“Sunday morning You’re doing your thing And I am doing mine Speaking words More a formality Cuz we can feel we Are of one mind Sunday morning” –Ani DiFranco I got up a little before the man today, ground up the last of the coffee that was out...