A green bucket of zinnias from my Mother’s garden sat on the yellow kitchen table this summer. Memories filled my mind, and no words seem to come forth…yet a strong colorful…

                             My next door neighbor’s door is painted in boeuf rouge and ocre jaune. The forged iron door handle and lock have been worn smooth as silk, a door that has…

The French love food! Right down to their pieds. They do it right, it is a ritual, in perfect timing with the church bells. From the white linen, to the perfect baguette… Their fork and knife dance around the plate,…

                         While sitting on the balusters her thoughts had unfolded before her. Word by word, sentence by sentence, a never ending stream. As if she were the ink on the letter she…

                               Chelsea, (my teen-aged daughter,) had already missed one bus to Marseille when the next bus passed her by! Racing back to the house she asked me if I could…