Our celebration continues…

Growing up Kentucky Monthly, I have many memories of unique experiences. As a young child, I remember loving the large display window and spending much time at the office while my mom and dad worked. To the pedestrians of St. Clair Street in downtown Frankfort, I hope you never minded me and my Polly Pockets […]

you remind me of

somewhere, a landscape lies—

The morning sunlight dances between shadows on the path ahead of me, a happy yellow glistening on the brown earth trail. I am surrounded by ancient trees that tower high, up to the clouds, it seems. These pine sentinels guard the trail, soldiers of the forest, companions along the path. With hundreds of trees to […]

This is the kitchen

The brilliant yellow purse screams, “Look at me; look at me,” from the top shelf of the Merle Norman counter. “Wow, what a cool bag,” I think to myself as I lay out cash for a new tube of lipstick.

Anne Woodford was a witch. That was the only conclusion my 10-year-old mind could whittle out as I watched her place the giant copper pot on the stovetop and then open the thick, leather-bound book with yellowed pages.

She emerged in the fall of 2004. Autumn colors blanketed the landscape, and winter was pressing in. Threats of snow graced everyone’s mind, and nighttime temperatures slipped in and out of freezing.

Poets are always taking the weather so personally. They’re always sticking their emotions in things that have no emotion. J.D. Salinger