Donna's Muse Papers

 My paternal grandparents, Gaga and Pom Pom, lived on a little farm in Athens. Pennsylvania. Pom Pom raised chickens and had a big garden. We visited every summer for our vacation. The chickens were especially fascinating for me, an animal lover from the get-go. Gaga let me help her collect eggs, which was a big adventure to me. Sometimes a hen would still be sitting on her nest and I would call Gaga for help. I was afraid of being pecked. I also followed my grandfather to the garden to “help.” He was especially proud of his tomatoes, but my favorite thing was helping pick the raspberries he grew. He’d laugh and tell me not to eat too many or their wouldn’t be enough for Gaga’s raspberry cobbler. One summer I took a fancy to a little hen. I don’t know why? I asked Pom Pom if I could have her for a pet. He said yes and I was thrilled. I named her Penny, probably from the story Henny Penny. I was less thrilled to have to leave her behind when we went home. We lived in town and in a

  Snow Mama, Daddy, Claudia, and I packed into the car and headed north from North Carolina. We were on our way to spend the Christmas holidays with “The Folks Up Home,” Daddy’s family. As I remember, there was always snow. Maybe that’s not so, but it is how I remember it. On one of those trips in particular, we got caught in a snowstorm; maybe it was a blizzard. We got stuck in snow and Daddy had to get out to dig us free. He slipped and fell, sliding underneath the car. I can still remember the fear in Mama’s voice as she called out to him. He managed to get back up and dig us out of the snow. As we neared Towanda, Pa. we were fortunate to get behind a cinder truck that was spreading ash from furnaces on the road for better traction. We were able to follow it all the way to our destination. In Daddy’s words, “We would never had made it over that hill if it had not been for being behind that truck.” My sister and I, being little kids and unaware of the danger, were enthralled

A Very Important Tree   We used to celebrate Mama’s birthday every year by putting up our Christmas tree. December 16 to be exact. Friends came to help and there were goodies to eat. My Uncle Willie always sent a check for $10 for us to buy our tree as his gift to the family. That was the start of Christmas at our house. The first Christmas tree I remember was Papa Tom’s Christmas tree. It was big and stood in the front hall. Mama’s homeplace is known now as The Latham House and is a historic landmark in my hometown, Plymouth, North Carolina. Papa Tom got the tree from a farmer-friend’s woods. It was a cedar and was prickly, even more so as it dried out. It was decorated with beautiful glass ornaments. Some were clear with multicolored stripes, some round and some teardrop shaped and shiny and bright. The lights were glass and shaped like little flames. The color was painted on. I know that because old ones’ paint flaked off leaving them clear. I remember one day, after the

It’s the day after New Years Day 2021. I have already made a list of goals for the year. Not resolutions. Those are too demanding and only serve to make me feel like a failure when I don’t accomplish them. Goals are different though. Goals can be on-going journeys that take however long they take. One of my goals is to pay more attention to my blogs. See, what I mean. I don’t resolve to write in them every day. For one thing, I know I won’t. But I would like to be more consistent about it. I’ve set the goal to finish editing and publish my new novel, My Neighbors from the Woods . It’s a story about a woman preserving her independence which just happens to include a family of Bigfoot as characters. I’m kind of hanging back on releasing it until its safe to gather in person and I can have a real-life book event. Also, on my list of goals that I hope to do in 2021 (but its okay if I don’t) is to publish a book of poetry that’s been on the back burner for a couple of decades. It has