Writer, photographer, teacher. Lost in thought, a camera in my hand.
Grandma’s pink potatoes
‘Did Grandma bring the pink potatoes?’ My nephew screams in greeting. I laugh, nodding. His outfit and his enthusiasm are contagious. It is July Fourth, and he’s sporting a snorkel mask with a hot pink breathing tube, aqua shorts decorated with strawberries, and electric green flippers. Lifting his knees to his chest he squelches up the driveway, searching for his favorite person.
Window to the past
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The group had made camp just before sunset, pitching a tent on the last level patch of ground they could find near the tree line. Rumor had it these trees didn’t end until a hundred miles past the state border, woods to get lost in and never be found.