Louisa May Alcott was born November 29, 1832, in Germantown, PA, the second daughter of Bronson and Abba Alcott. They are considered "Two of the more remarkable characters in the annals of 19th century American parenting." Louisa was only 22 when she published her first book "Flower Foibles", a collection of fairy tales. "Little Women" was published in 1868 (age 36). Different parents would not have given this particular Louisa to the world of literature. Who would I be without her? Was your life changed because of her life? Of her mother Louisa said, "...a good deal of it (philosophy) happens in the kitchen, where a fine old lady thinks high thoughts... while she cooks and scrubs."
The lake is half iced over. Now I see that we occupy the colder side of the Crystal for there is no ice on the other side. The bright sun skips over the ice, runs up the hill, laughs at the window and dazzles our morning with bliss. Wendy Wright might see this as "an invitation for the divine and human to meet halfway." Yes, any relationship requires mutual participation so let us all try to have a conversation with God today and see how it goes.
At breakfast I tried to organize the group into the Frozen Muskrats Band on Tour but we recognized our limited talents before we made any commitments. I went for a brief walk and returned to participate in a digital tour of China with Ellie Slette Ni-hao (knee-how) is Hello in China. I think I will become a ni-hao girl for awhile.
I then tried to organize the Frozen Muskrat Philosophical Society. There was no enthusiasm for this either. Therefore, I must proclaim the Frozen Muskrats dead.
Dino called and Ann told him I would be in Minneapolis for the winter. She said I wanted to try the flush toilet. I shouted, "I want to try the plush and flush toilet." I am still gathering rhyming words for Cedar. Hooray! as she would say and clap her hands in glee to discover two more verbal companions that dance over the tongue with quiet grace and hiss through the teeth together.
They say it was Willa Cather's deep moral sense that allowed her characters to discover the detail that opened their closed lives for a moment or for a lifetime. She wrote that the art of story writing "is no good at all unless it is let alone to be itself." I'm afraid I still want to guide my characters into self-discovery. My hand rests too heavily upon their souls. A good parent knows when to let go.
The lake is half iced over. Now I see that we occupy the colder side of the Crystal for there is no ice on the other side. The bright sun skips over the ice, runs up the hill, laughs at the window and dazzles our morning with bliss. Wendy Wright might see this as "an invitation for the divine and human to meet halfway." Yes, any relationship requires mutual participation so let us all try to have a conversation with God today and see how it goes.
At breakfast I tried to organize the group into the Frozen Muskrats Band on Tour but we recognized our limited talents before we made any commitments. I went for a brief walk and returned to participate in a digital tour of China with Ellie Slette Ni-hao (knee-how) is Hello in China. I think I will become a ni-hao girl for awhile.
I then tried to organize the Frozen Muskrat Philosophical Society. There was no enthusiasm for this either. Therefore, I must proclaim the Frozen Muskrats dead.
Dino called and Ann told him I would be in Minneapolis for the winter. She said I wanted to try the flush toilet. I shouted, "I want to try the plush and flush toilet." I am still gathering rhyming words for Cedar. Hooray! as she would say and clap her hands in glee to discover two more verbal companions that dance over the tongue with quiet grace and hiss through the teeth together.
They say it was Willa Cather's deep moral sense that allowed her characters to discover the detail that opened their closed lives for a moment or for a lifetime. She wrote that the art of story writing "is no good at all unless it is let alone to be itself." I'm afraid I still want to guide my characters into self-discovery. My hand rests too heavily upon their souls. A good parent knows when to let go.
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