Easter

Easter
Lily in Autumn

Tigress by Ellen Tsagaris

Tigress by Ellen Tsagaris
This is a story of Jack the Ripper with at Twist!

Ellen Tsagaris' The Bathory Chronicles; Vol. I Defiled is My Name

Ellen Tsagaris' The Bathory Chronicles; Vol. I Defiled is My Name
This is the first of a trilogy retelling the true story of the infamous countess as a youn adult novel. History is not always what it seems.

Wild Horse Runs Free

Wild Horse Runs Free
A Historical Novel by Ellen Tsagaris

With Love From Tin Lizzie

With Love From Tin Lizzie
Metal Heads, Metal Dolls, Mechanical Dolls and Automatons

The Legend of Tugfest

The Legend of Tugfest
Dr. E is the Editor and A Contributor; proceeds to aid the Buffalo Bill Museum

Emma

Emma

Like My Spider

Like My Spider
It's Halloween!

Moth

Moth
Our Friend

Little Girl with Doll

Little Girl with Doll
16th C. Doll

A Jury of her Peeps

A Jury of her Peeps
"Peep Show" shadow box

Crowded Conditions

Crowded Conditions

Opie Cat's Ancestors

Opie Cat's Ancestors
Current Cat still Sleeps on Victorian Doll Bed with Dolls!

First Thanksgiving Dinner

First Thanksgiving Dinner
Included goose and swan on the menu!

Autumn Still Life

Autumn Still Life
public domain

Boadicea

Boadicea
The Original Bodacious Woman

Angel Monument

Angel Monument

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Kiowa Doll

Kiowa Doll

Sketch of children playing

Sketch of children playing
Courtesy, British Museum

Small Dolls, Clay and Cloth

Small Dolls, Clay and Cloth

A Goddess

A Goddess

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Saturday, August 17, 2019

Butterflies are Free

Lately, when I go out to walk, or work with my flowers, butterflies surround me.  Usually Monarchs.  Maybe they are lost souls, or maybe they are thankful I tried to save one of their own.  Who knows. 

I really love them, and I'm glad butterflies are free.


All images public domain.
Image result for butterflies public domain



Image result for butterflies public domain

Image result for butterflies public domain

Wednesday, August 7, 2019

As the Green Hills Roll Along

The days may be near 90, but in the shade, the air is much cooler than it was.   Fall is near.  Cattails fill ditches along with Queen Anne's Lace; the sumac is turning colors.  Leaves are even beginning to fall and school has started.  I dread winter, but I love fall, and Halloween, of course.



The hills are still green, and the corn high.  There is no landscape like this, with weathered red barns here and there, and houses way to worn to be standing by themselves, but do.



I want to walk and walk through it all, to remember days with my family, now gone, when we went driving along the country back roads, looking for antique stores, or old barns holding sales, for tomatoes and sweet corn, and later, hickory nuts, taffy apples, and pumpkins.




No one buys me taffy apples any more.  Driving my Dad's car, I realize how much he loved taking to the road.  I do, too.  Long drives are when I can play audio books; I'm listening to The Hobbit, which I've read over and over.  It takes me back not just to Middle Earth, but to Saturday mornings when my folks would go out, and I would get up and dust the living room, and every other weekend, one of the other rooms of the house as well. I read, played Barry Manilow albums over and over, especially I Write the Songs, daydreamed about boys I kind of  liked, but would never approach, did my drivers' ed homework, and waited for my folks to get back so I could go to lunch with them and shop.  Life was pretty easy, and good. It included free meals out, my mom buying and washing my clothes, free books, antique shows, and vacations, sometimes twice a year.

It's different now. 

Memories sustain me, and flowers, and a whiff of pumpkin spice now and then.