Cicadas again
Brood 2 of the 17-year magicicadas are emerging this spring in my part of the world. I hear them singing …
Brood 2 of the 17-year magicicadas are emerging this spring in my part of the world. I hear them singing …
This writing is a response to (with inspiration from) Denise Levertov’s poem, “Animal Spirits.” Here’s a link to it: http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2013/05/14 When …
At a recent book event in Salisbury at the Literary Bookpost, an independent bookstore, members of our group who were …
My prayers sometimes pause in the snatches of rainbow light that play upon the wall, the refrigerator, the floor, as …
This piece was written April 22, 2007 to a prompt at a weekend retreat: Write about a place that no longer …
No tombstoning when placing stories on the newspaper page, I used to advise my students. So much language of death …
On Facebook Peggy shared this opinion piece from The Washington Post by Ann Hood, and I thought that those of …
Several of our group shared a book reading and signing at Pomegranate Books, an independent bookstore in Wilmington, last Thursday. …
A few years ago, our writing group decided that to mark ten years of writing together, we would travel to …
I listened to the hum of cicadas winding down the summer while in the mountains with my two-year-old granddaughter last …
Eight of us read and signed books at Quail Ridge Books and Music in Raleigh on Thursday, August 30. Here …
Video of highlights of the event at Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill on Saturday, August 25:
In this video clip, Carol introduces five of the mothers in the group, who read excerpts from their writings in …
“Prayer for What is Lost,” a poem by Stuart Kestenbaum, was featured in this morning’s The Writer’s Almanac. On many …
When I arrived at the driver’s license office before 8 a.m. this morning, the line was already snaking down the …
Carol posted this morning on the Farther Along Facebook page about reading this post on her sister’s blog. To see …
On this date 167 years ago, Henry David Thoreau moved to his cabin in the woods where he lived for …
I am from. . . I am from red clay roads, party-line telephones and “I Love Lucy” when it was …
Hopeful wood thrush calls
high in the clean mountain trees
one sweet note missing.