Carved in Stone
Sometimes you just need a witness and that’s why I dragged my husband to revisit the cemetery across from the house where we were staying in New Canaan. It had been raining for days, spirits…
Dear Mrs. Rose
I’ll admit I didn’t rush to see the collection of Joanna S. Rose’s quilts at the Armory last week, even though the six-day show was about to end. Free admission to “Infinite Variety: Three Centuries…
Red with a Warm Center
I open my umbrella and one of the metal prongs punctures the pink fabric. Were it not for this desperate splash of color, I would be the exact same color as wet concrete. My husband,…
The Power of Pants
Chances are I could have gotten a lot more writing done in my life if it hadn’t been for black pants. They have their own shelf in my brain and the older I get, the…
Writing in Stride
Not to brag, but I’ve probably finished more than a dozen novels at the 14th Street YMCA in New York City. This is some feat since I don’t own a laptop computer and never bring…
