
Festive bubbles in a blue blown-glass paperweight

You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall


At the beginning of the week, we had a tease of the Christmas-card expectations of a white holiday. Whether it holds to the big day itself is always in question, and the forecast seems to shift hourly. Even so, enjoy the scene.


One of my more familiar drives while living in Dover meant crossing over into Maine on my way to or from the Antique House.
Within a seven-mile stretch of the roadway, there were at least 16 family cemeteries – some with only two or three visible stones.
It’s all the more striking when you realize that two separate two-mile stretches have none at all, so the burials actually occur in just three miles. In those parts, you probably couldn’t turn around without encountering a tombstone.
Many of the graveyards are overgrown, with some surrounded by iron railings.
I’m guessing there are more, if we were going more slowly and looking even closer.
Still, we’re left wondering about the families, some who settled the grounds in the 1600s, and how long they remained.
But on the drive, each one is gone in a flash.
Just because I watch the stars doesn’t mean I trust them.
We had foxes at the bird feeder and viewed them as they slinked off into the woods, akin to Garrison Hill, and next to it was a bear.
I was a championship swimmer and a symphony violinist not actually competing or performing but enjoying the status.
At the airplane crash scene as a reporter, I helped put bodies in valet bags.
With a landmass of 16,577 square miles, the country of Denmark is almost exactly half the size of Maine and has six-times the population of the Pine Tree State. Yet Denmark uses close to 10,000 megawatts of power annually, about double of what Maine uses.
If my math’s right, that means they’re using only a third of what we do, per capita.
How do they do it?
We both have cold winters with long nights. And most of us rely on fuel oil for heat.
And, for the record, nearly half of Maine is uninhabited, year-‘round, meaning the lived-in part of Maine’s about the size of Denmark. They do stay warm and keep the lights on, don’t they?
He’s not a synonym for the fat man who comes down the chimney at Christmas, especially in Eastern Orthodox Christianity, where he’s especially revered. Let’s set the record straight.
~*~
So much for Santa Claus, eh?
In my novel What’s Left, Cassia’s great-grandfather and his brother marry two sisters. One is named Diana. As is her granddaughter, Cassia’s mother.
How did your grandparents meet? Were they childhood neighbors?
wednesday lists several directions
