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10:34 AM Thursday, September 19, 2019
Home Life


Happy Camper

My love for camping continued throughout my youth and expressed itself in blanket forts where the cozy feeling would eventually feel stifling; a tree house with a too-short and rickety rope escape that felt like the adventures of Tarzan of the jungle; a couple of lean-tos meant to provide girls’ space when the boys took over our second tree house and visits to the family cabin in Selbyville, where the smell of bacon frying on a wood stove and the sound of the wooden screen door slamming as we ran out to go “creek stomping” fueled my summers.

He’s an Addict; He’s My Son

By Teresa Woody: You helplessly witness the wrenching pain of withdrawals, the sweating, the nausea, the horrid aches that bind his body. You hide the keys, your jewelry, credit cards, anything of value. You physically try to stop him from leaving the confines of your home...

Stalking Awareness Connecting the Dots

By Sara Fincham: For instance, driving down the street may not seem strange, sending someone gifts may not physically hurt anyone, but given context, those behaviors could be a crime. American writer and cultural critic Michael Ventura said, “Without context, a piece of information is just a dot…knowledge is information in context...connecting the dots.”

Following the Yellow Brick Road Through America’s Broken Health Care System

The oncology department would become as familiar to us as our hair salon or dentist office, but it was strange and otherworldly at first. Everyone was so kind, and the staff and patients made it a calm and serene environment. That's important to the patients who recline in their chairs, looking at phones or books or magazines, talking quietly to their caregivers, dozing, just chilling as the poison pumps into their systems. But, it's our yellow brick road out of Cancer Land, and we embrace it, for the time being anyway.

Photography of Krystalenia Quade

Photo taken from North Fork Highway in Moorefield, WV. Photo taken from...

Gardening Advice From My Gramma, Bula Kiser

My grandmother always had the prettiest garden. She grew flowers while my Granddaddy took care of all the vegetables. Her blue and white Victorian house on Florida Street glowed with pink geraniums, pink and white petunias, and a glory of other blooms in her signature colors. Around the side and back...

The Mountains are Calling, and I Must Go!

Mountains conjure scenic images from Appalachia to Colorado, Switzerland, Tibet, and beyond.  Typically, mountains symbolize permanence and immovability and can even represent spirituality and God.  Monks build monasteries in picturesque mountains which are decidedly remote...

A Different Kind of Semicolon Moment

A new adventure in the dead of winter; a chance to create in the shadow of death; a beginning from an ending – I call this a semicolon moment, a moment when life could...


Photo taken on Cold Stream road, Hampshire Co., WV in September.

Flowers and Children

Flowers are complex creatures, aren’t they?  Aesthetically amazing, they’re not just pretty, but beholden with such perfumed power.   Not just a decoration, but dexterous – adaptable, functional, resourceful, multifaceted.   For instance, in the 1600’s, tulip bulbs...