The Seasons of 1957

by Sharon M. Kennedy Growing up on my sideroad in the 1950s was a lot different than it is today. In those days, the county lacked the sophisticated equipment required to level snow banks. As kids, we often dug holes in the four feet high banks and hollowed out forts….

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Guilty as Charged

by Sharon M. Kennedy I’ll admit it. I’ve committed the only unpardonable crime in America. It has nothing to do with a legal infraction that could easily be dismissed by hiring a competent lawyer. I didn’t make elaborate coup plans or check out questionable Internet sites. The silent crime more…

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Of Mice and Lice

by Sharon M. Kennedy Mom heading to the wellhouse to check her mouse trap line Remember when a mouse was something you caught in a trap and didn’t want to touch? When I was a kid, checking Mom’s trap line was my least favorite chore. I didn’t mind any other…

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The Great Granite Kitchen Hoax

One characteristic of all newlyweds or seasoned house hunters is their insistence upon stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, and stone floors. The marketing genius who came up with the idea of going sockless must be the same one who brainwashed homebuyers into thinking they need a kitchen outfitted with “upgrades”…

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Welcome Autumn

I was walking down the road this morning and noticed the fields were full of vegetation going to seed. I thought about the seasonal cycles and how nature knows when it’s time to wrap up one and begin the next. The fields and forests have no calendars or smartphones to…

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A Well Stacked Woodpile

As September winds blow into October, woodsheds should be well-stocked and stacked to the rafters. If this winter is anything like the last one, wood-burning stoves, furnaces, and fireplaces will get a daily workout trying to keep the cold at bay. Although I don’t heat my home with wood, one…

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Meet Lady Long Rider

Two women, both loners who had rejected a safe, predictable lifestyle and turned their back on tradition, met one April afternoon in 2018 and talked for an hour. Although strangers, they soon discovered they had much in common. At the age of 50, each had made a major decision in…

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Uncle Steve’s Last Garden

Uncle Steven using the rototiller (1972)

Uncle Steve and the rototiller (1972) Uncle Steve’s garden stretched before me like Adam’s Eden. Every kind of edible plant that could survive Michigan’s Upper Peninsula weather poked its head through the rich brown soil. Bright red tomatoes hung from thick green vines. Hiding underneath enormous elephant leaves, zucchini roamed…

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School Bells Ring

  Summer slipped away like warm rain running down a drainpipe. Autumn winds carried wildflower seeds in all directions ensuring next year’s pastures would be abundant with Queen Anne’s lace, yellow mustard, bluebells, and delicate pink Roses of Sharon. School bells clanged the opening of another academic year. Girls in…

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