A Solemn . . . I Mean Irreverent . . . Poem

I really  like this poem of mine. It comes from a story my dad has often told about a group of men digging a grave in the church cemetery where I grew up. My husband thinks it’s a little bit awful. What say you? MOURNING OR A MURDER OF CROWS   Men gather when a...

Finding Carlotta Ratts

After writing Monday’s post, it occurred to me that Carlotta Ratts was a sufficiently unusual name that I might be able to track her down via the Internet. So, I did a search and here’s what I found out about the woman who once owned my copy of Longfellows...

A Home for Homeless Books

I love to give used books a good home. I try to support my favorite living authors by buying their books, but, well, Charles Dickens probably isn’t worrying about his sales. And my copy of David Copperfield from 1850 is so lovely with its blue boards printed...