I Write These Things

A trip to England was a dream of mine all of my life. My senior year of English literature and my love of poetry and writing were the spark. Plus, after doing the Ancestry test to find out my origins, the results showed I am 95 percent English. I was thrilled. I somehow felt that once I stepped on English soil, that somehow it would feel like my homeland. I am so thankful that in the Spring of 2025 I got to see what my heart had dreamed of. Most all of the books I read

The Calico Cottage had a white picket fence And a trellis that grew roses red A patch of green grass held a table set with tea Over by the wild flower bed. And there in my chair As I sip on my tea With pen and journal I write Soft breezes blowing, flowers growing A feast to my taste and my sight. Spending time in God's garden Peaceful beauty around What better thing could I do? Except pour one more cup And share one more plate And spend it dear friend with you. Linda Dodson 2

The first cold, harsh winds blew in November, showing up like an early unwanted guest arriving too soon. Those icy, cold days were the bleakest with not a glimpse of sun to warm our faces. Not a powdery snow which softly blanketed the ground. No. It was not to be. But instead a cold, hard ice that would not even grace us a footprint. Bravery was trudging to the mailbox and expecting to hear the crunch of the grass under my feet. Our grass instead rendered no sound, just