The little squirrel was sitting in the middle of the road. I saw him when I stopped at the red light. His head rotated back and forth. Which way to go? Should he dash in front of my vehicle? Should he return to the sidewalk? How had he gotten himself into this perilous situation? What […]
Squirrel Mentality Read More »
Roses in Octoberby Rose Owens Copyright 2010 Roses, I see rosesRed, yellow, pink,Old fashioned roses,Full bloom roses,Roses blooming,Summer’s glory. Childhood memories ‘neath Utah skiesWhisper in my mind. Rose petals scatteredBefore a dress-up bride,Carefully cradling a rose bouquet.Stems wrapped in toilet paper,Defense against the thorns.Petals spread like frostingAdorning mud-pie cakes,Imaginary food for imaginary friends. Roses,I see
A tentative drop of rain touched my arm. I’d better hurry, I thought, or I’ll be caught in the rain. I held a People magazine in my hand. It had been delivered to my house by mistake. I knew that the intended recipient would want this magazine since it chronicled the life of Queen Elizabeth.
She stood on the far bank of the stream and watched a young boy run down the hill. He stopped at the edge of the stream and waved before moving toward the plank that bridged the water. She called out, “Stop! Don’t try to cross,” and motioned with her hand. The noise of the rushing
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In the spring of 2020, a hollyhock plant appeared in my front flower bed. I watched as a tall stem with pale pink flowers reached for the sky. It ultimately reached a height of over ten feet. I continued to enjoy this perennial plant during the two Covid years. I was surprised
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Why did keypunch cards come to my mind? It was a random thought. While I have a vivid memory of them, my grandchildren probably don’t even know what they are or that they existed. They were born into a technologically advanced world. My new husband was pursuing a master’s degree in mathematics. At that time
I finished addressing the envelope for the card I’d just signed. Then I needed to put a stamp in the upper right-hand corner of the envelope. Santa smiled up at me. Using Christmas stamps in March, I thought, is a reminder that I planned to send out a Christmas letter this year and never got
I lean against the wall,Balancing myselfAs I aim my footInto my shoe. And in that momentI see myselfAs others see me: Old Graying hair Frail Struggling to kneel And stand back up again Holding the railing As I slowly ascend or descend The stairs Needing a supporting hand As
I stood at his door, a bag of goodies in one hand and a Woman’s World magazine in the other. “Here,” I said. “I think you should read this.” Steven reached out and took the magazine from my hand and scanned the short article. “You’re famous,” he said. I shook my head. “No, you are.”
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The year I turned 62—which was a significant number of years ago—I decided to have a party. I invited the group of nine-year-old children that were in my Primary class at Church. I love to tell stories and planned storytelling to be the main event. Cake is almost a standard requirement for a birthday party,
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