…by the end of the summer, we had a balanced meal, heavy on the veggies. I lived the original farm to table.
March winds bring me back to afternoons at the kitchen table of Bridget Reilly Fitzgerald–my grandmother. She would make us strong black tea, lightened and sweetened, and tell us stories about home. It was the story of the Banshee that took root.
I remember when I decided to launch a Kickstarter project: a June day washed with sun and optimism. Then there were weeks of figuring out the logistics. Building the site. […]
I read Virginia Woolf”s A Room of One’s Own years ago on a flight to San Francisco. I’m a fiercely fast writer and a seriously slow reader, so the slender […]
Nestled in the saturated green of maples and birches and scrub sumac, a single scarlet leaf winked at me as I sipped my morning coffee. The long, slow days are slipping away. […]
Erica Ferencik asked if I’d read and blurb her novel. I said of course. And what’s it about? “A paranormal thriller about reincarnation and a mother who comes back as a viper.” […]