FOX TRACKS

HOMETOWN BOOK SIGNING

2026-03-25T14:31:00.000-05:00

Sweet 💖 Valentines Saturday at book signing at my hometown library in New York Millis, Minnesota. February is usually brutally cold weather, and folks are reluctant to leave the house, but not this year! Eager readers wearing cardigans or light jackets filled the library to capacity. Lucky for me and the other 13 authors in attendance.

It was a fun day to sell and sign my book, "Black & White," about growing up on a dairy farm in northern Minnesota as well as my later life. The day was extra special when family and friends shared their own memories growing up in the 1950s and 1960s. Lots of laughs and dates were set to get together real soon. Love to be back home visiting with these country and small-town folks!

This thoughtful gift from New York Mills Public Library was gifted to all authors who attended the book signing. Love it! Another kind gesture from our Finnish community. Kiitos!

WELCOME TO THE 2ND ANNUAL HYGGE MARKET

2026-01-31T14:08:00.002-06:00

I am very excited to be one of 13 local authors invited to showcase our books at my hometown public library in New York Mills, MN in two weeks. The library's next-door neighbor, the NYM Regional Cultural Center, will feature artists and makers. The combination of artists, makers and local book authors will create an even more vibrant, cozy event. WELCOME TO THE 2ND ANNUAL HYGGE MARKET!

Hygge (pronounced hoo-gah) is a Danish concept that represents coziness, comfort, and contentment. It's about slowing down, enjoying the little things, and embracing moments of peace--whether it is lighting a candle, snuggling under a blanket, reading a good book, or appreciating beautiful art.

Event Details:

Date: Saturday, February 14, 2026

Time: 10:00 AM - 2:00 PM

Location: New York Mills Public Library

30 Main Ave N, New York Mills MN 56567

Hope to see you at this year's warm and wonderful Hygge Market! This event will be my first book signing in my hometown. Stop by and pick up a copy of my memoir, Black & White, which follows my young years growing up on a dairy farm near Heinola, as well as my later life! Kittos!

Not Seeing in Black & White Anymore...

2026-01-23T21:46:00.000-06:00

My memoir, Black & White, is for sale at many locations: cafes, grocery stores, gift shops, local newspaper office, convenience stores, NYM Regional Cultural Center, and more. Last summer my memoir got lots of attention at Finn Creek Museum, New York Mills, MN. Maybe its popularity was influenced somewhat by my ancestry. I'm 100% Finnish-American and I also grew up on a farm 5 miles from Finn Creek! Lotsa fun Finnish folks around here!

Photo courtesy of Finn Creek Museum. You can purchase my book on Amazon (Amazon-Black-White-Cindy-Fox) or I can mail you a signed copy. Contact me via email fox.cindym@gmail.com with your shipping address. Payment via Paypal. Special Notice: I will be selling my book at the New York Mills Public Library on Saturday, February 14, 2026, 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. as the library and the NYM Regional Cultural Center celebrate their 2nd Annual Hygge Market! I hope to see you there!

Judge's Pick 2017: Winter Lilacs

2018-01-18T11:08:00.002-06:00

My fictional short story, Winter Lilacs, was recently chosen as Judge's Pick and published in Creative Writing Institute's 2017 themed anthology Lost!. All stories had to include the themed sentence: "I am completely and utterly lost."

Immediately, I thought of my Back Road Signs story I'd submitted for CWI's Wrong! anthology back in 2014, which fit the theme to a tee. But since the story was published that year with Honorable Mention and awarded my first Judge's Pick, my mind wandered beyond getting lost on America's highways.

I stepped into my Finnish grandfather's shoes and imagined what his life was like after my grandmother died two years prior. So many memories in their farmhouse triggering grief and guilt, which typically follow the loss of a loved one. And the all-encompassing loneliness that never goes away after living with your spouse for over 60 years. I imagined him feeling emotionally lost without her. Winter Lilacs emerged as a fictional story, but while I wrote it I was right beside my Grandpa in their old farmhouse.

CWI is a not for profit charity and all sales proceeds from this anthology will sponsor free writing courses for cancer patients. I am honored my story was chosen by an organization that gives back to others, and to know my story contribution will put a smile on a cancer patient's face...that's a precious Christmas gift for me.

This year's anthology is available at Amazon. Anyone who orders the print book ($1.99) receives the e-book for free.

Lost! Anthology

To Blog or Not

2017-06-11T20:59:00.001-05:00

When I first ventured into the writing world, a blog was considered an ideal author platform to share my writing success. Since then, Facebook took over the spotlight. No one reads my blog, and why should they when I average two or three posts a year? I have had around 8,500 page views, which is nothing to brag about. But last night, I thought why not post something...just in case Google decides to delete my blog due to inactivity.

Like always, I checked my "stats" to see how many people looked at my blog in the last day, the last week and the last month. I like to see where my reader traffic comes from and I was surprised to see my blog, FOX TRACKS, was at the top of the list. But instead of .com was a .de URL. Someone in Germany had stolen my blog!

I frantically scrolled through Google's Blogger "Help" Forum for help. No help at all. Two hours wasted. I type "copyright infringement" in the search box. A form appears with a stern warning that I may be liable for court costs if my complaint is not viable. Is my complaint viable? I think so, but Google Blogger cited $100,000 was paid by an ill-informed blogger who had wasted their precious time. Oh, dear. I back out.

Back to Blogger Help, I type 'my blog has been stolen.' I find hundreds of complaints with this same issue. One guy said to post my complaint every 24 hours so Google pays attention to my dire request. I fear no one will listen to little old me, so I nix that idea.

Back to the help forum, I type 'why is my .com blog showing .de when it originates from USA.' And then an answer pops up:
"The website address of a blog may redirect to a country-specific domain. This is in line with Google's approach to free expression and controversial content."

What? I read further and wouldn't you know it, the only way around this is to buy a custom domain from Google.This makes no sense to me. In fact, it makes me feel very uncomfortable, so I may be moving my blog in the not too distant future.

In the meantime, check out my latest stories published in the 25th Anniversary Edition of The Talking Stick, a publication of Jackpine Writers' Bloc.

Cleaning John's House (took 2nd place in Creative Nonfiction)
Everything Will Be Okay
Beauty Fix

Hay, Let's Have Some Fun!

2016-06-24T18:35:00.000-05:00

More surprises! I was caught off guard when I opened the June/July 2016 issue of Farm & Ranch Living magazine to find my story "Hay, Let's Have Some Fun!" which I’d submitted to them last year was published on page 56-57. Better late than never. But I understand magazines often run on seasonal cycles and prepare for publication six months in advance.

Rainfall was above normal here in northern Minnesota last summer. Many days were humid and vegetation sparkled with morning dew. By noon the sun had sucked away the surface dew. But the hayfields our good neighbor Benny and my husband Jim crop-share had grown thick from all the rain and, now cut, laid heavy in the swath. The tedder was more than a century old implement, but was the perfect rig to gently lift and release the hay atop the stubble, allowing air to circulate the underbelly of the mown hay and cut drying time in half.

Pictured below, Benny proudly fluffed up cut hay using the tedder and his restored Farmall tractor. Old-fashioned guys, Jim and Benny farm for fun and get a kick out of using implements from yesteryear, which sometimes are more suitable than new fangled ones.

And, as often was the case in my growing-up years, Benny and my husband Jim baled the hay on the Fourth of July. But these two retirees didn’t care. They were having fun and that’s all that mattered.

This year the hay is towering and should have been cut and baled two weeks ago, but has been postponed with frequent thunderstorms and showers. Four to five days of dry weather are needed to cut, dry, and bale hay.

Looking at the forecast, next week will be a sun-shiny week and, once again, I’m betting they’ll be celebrating their independence as they bale hay on the Fourth of July.

When It Rains, It Pours

2016-04-26T14:12:00.000-05:00

April showers bring May flowers, so I’m not complaining about the dismal day outside and the rainy forecast for the coming week. True to the expression, “when it rains, it pours,” my writing success is following the same pattern.

In the last month, four of my stories have been selected for publication later this year.

“Animal Farm,” an excerpt from my life story-in-progress, will be included in Hometown Memories of Northwestern Minnesota along with other people’s tales from our region.

Two creative nonfiction stories, “Everything Will Be Okay” and “Cleaning John’s House” (which was awarded second place honors) plus my fictional story, “Beauty Fix,” will appear in the 25^th Anniversary edition of The Talking Stick, a Minnesota anthology published in August each year.

I am also excited to learn that work is now ongoing to publish a Kindle ebook featuring all the Women's Memoirs First Paragraph Contest winning entries. As mentioned in an earlier post, my “Evening Shadows” entry was a Bronze winner in this contest. A published version of all winning entries will be a valuable volume, focusing on just one aspect of writing…the importance of strong, powerful openings with many examples all in one place.

The rain gauge overflows and my cup runneth over. Let it rain. Let it rain.

On this first day of autumn . . .

2015-09-23T21:42:00.002-05:00

I return from a long hiatus with no updates and I’ve been a bad, bad blogger. But I’ve been a good, good student, devoting a month of summer to an online writing class from The Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis. Though it swallowed precious summer hours, it was well worth the sacrifice. It helped drag me out of my writers’ slump, motivating me to get words on paper. Now let the creative juices flow!

Last Saturday gave me a boost in the right direction. While attending The Talking Stick (Vol. 24) book release party at Blueberry Pines Golf Course in beautiful Menagha, Minnesota, I was honored to receive the Second Place award for my poem, “Broken Bowl.” Thank you to the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc and celebrity judge, Laura Hansen, for considering my work worthy for this award and publication in this journal. Cash and publication credits do much to boost a writer's morale.

The cover theme for this year’s journal is Undercurrents, which was selected based on the type of stories and poems submitted. My creative nonfiction story, “River Voices,” dived into the undercurrent of my family’s annual Tube-O-Rama on the Ottertail River and made the cut for publication as well.

Thank you again, Jackpine Writers’ Bloc, for believing in my written words. I am truly blessed to have my work included in The Talking Stick for the past five years, a Minnesota literary journal that publishes to encourage solid writing that shows promise, creativity and brilliance.

You can purchase the current Volume 24 as well as past issues at http://thetalkingstick.com/

Back Road Signs in the Quaker State

2014-12-17T13:21:00.001-06:00

Before leaving on our first long road trip back in 2010, I searched the internet for driving directions from Minnesota to Pennsylvania. I carefully planned detours off the turnpike, so we could experience the rich history of our founding fathers. But no matter how much web-surfing and other prep work you do beforehand, I found out you could always benefit from some local advice--that is, if you asked for it.

My quest was not to get lost, but with no GPS and no smartphone to guide us back to the freeway, MapQuest was my best buddy. As the designated navigator, I watched for upcoming road signs. Gettysburg was easy to find, what with all the hoopla marking the 150th Anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg.

Not a history buff in high school, the Gettysburg National Military Park was my first lesson in American history and made me wish I'd paid more attention in the classroom. Touring the Civil War battleground, I was humbled to learn over two-hundred Minnesota comrades died after the ill-advised Pickett's Charge, only steps away from where I stood.

High Water Mark of Pickett's Charge

Jim standing by a Civil War cannon near Pickett's Charge basin.

Though I thought Gettysburg was the highlight of our trip, we were still a long way from home. Against my better judgment, I allowed Jim to take a shortcut over the Appalachian Mountains, a decision that today makes me a firm believer in MapQuest. I no longer question why internet driving directions don't steer you towards the shortest route. Maybe, just maybe, they know more than my husband does.

You can read about our Pennsylvania adventures (and misadventures) in my story, Back Road Signs, which was published last week in Creative Writing Institute's second themed anthology Wrong! (available at Amazon). All stories include the theme: "I have a list and map. What could possibly go wrong?"

CWI is a not for profit charity and all sales proceeds from the anthology will sponsor free writing courses for cancer patients. I am honored my story was chosen by an organization that gives back to others, and to know my story contribution will put a smile on someone's face...that's a precious Christmas gift for me.

Leave me a comment on my story. Have you found yourself in a similar situation?

Ah, Christmas is only a week away and I wonder what gifts will bear my name under our Christmas tree. Jim is not one to fuss with wrapping presents and attaching fluttering bows, the Fleet Farm bag is good enough. This year a box touting Rachael Ray's wonderful cookware sits undisguised next to the living room wall. Could he be fooling me? Could a smartphone or a GPS be tucked inside that big box? I'm not betting on it.

Back Road Signs: Honorable Mention & Judge's Pick

2014-10-27T16:52:00.000-05:00

My summer writing class reaped more rewards for me this week. My story, “Back Road Signs,” is one of fifteen stories chosen for publication in Creative Writing Institute’s 2^nd Annual Anthology: Wrong! As shown on CWI’s website, my story was awarded Honorable Mention. An asterisk, like a shining star, twinkles before my story title, which means it was a “judge’s pick.” That's quite an honor. Can you imagine me grinning? I AM! ☺

One specific requirement in the writing contest was to include the following lines in our story: “I have a list and a map. What could possibly go wrong?” I knew what story I’d already written that would answer the question. I dug out “Back Road Signs,” a previously rejected story, and revamped it with a titillating “snare” and though the plot was already a “joyride,” I added more twists and hairpin turns. The “payoff” (resolution) confirmed what every woman already knows: Men will never ask for driving directions if they are lost and there is no way we will ever change their minds. Ever.

Have I sparked your interest in my story? Check back in December after the anthology has been published. The publisher has graciously given me permission to post “Back Road Signs” on my blog.

Creative Writing Institute is a 501(c)3 nonprofit charity that not only provides online writing classes, but also sponsors free writing courses for cancer patients. Scholarships that enable people who are facing one of life’s worst health challenges to receive advice and guidance to write. Writing is a healing experience. I know. I’ve been there. I hope each patient finds the same joy I have experienced when my thoughts, mental images and emotions all come together in a story that readers can relate to. Thank you to the staff at CWI for all that you do.

C. Hope Clark’s newsletter, FundsforWriters, announced CWI’s call for story submissions back in July. I’m pleased to learn she will be writing the foreword for the anthology, a woman who tirelessly helps writers with tips and tools to advance their careers and has been in Writers Digest’s Top 101 Websites for Writers since 2001. A woman who tells us to stop listening to negative self-talk that our written words will never be good enough; who reminds us if we don't submit our work, how will we ever know?

When "Back Road Signs" was rejected three years ago, yes, it was a difficult pill to swallow. But, after revisions, it became a better story. Judges, too, have different views on what makes a good story. Who knows...maybe the judge(s) felt a deep connection with my story.

Who doesn't know a man who refuses to ask for directions?

In and Out of My Comfort Zone

2014-10-13T20:17:00.000-05:00

A month ago today, I stood at the podium at a book release party and read my first truly fictional story, “Waiting,” which appeared in The Talking Stick, a publication of the nonprofit organization, The Jackpine Writers’ Bloc, Inc.

My preferred writing genre is creative nonfiction, which is write what you know, but this story did not include one snippet of my life or those of my family and friends. I stepped out of my comfort zone and squeezed my main character into a slinky dress, splashed her body with perfume and painted her lips and nails fire engine red. An elegant dinner and a very special secret awaited her boyfriend…if he’d only come home.

When we have high expectations of something or someone, waiting is excruciating and sometimes very painful.

I remember the day I made final edits on “Waiting” and a creative nonfiction story I planned to submit to The Talking Stick when I got that prickly feeling that my computer was very sick. As it slowed to a crawl, virus alerts flashed on the screen and it refused my demands to save my documents, to exit, to do anything. To make a long story short, my Dell computer died, but not before I saved my stories on a backup device.

And then my journey began to learn Windows 8 while my Windows XP brain was stuck in first gear. It was then my creative nonfiction story for The Talking Stick was born, “Lost in Windows 8,” as I documented the agony and frustration of learning a new operating system. (To honor my state's "Minnesota Nice" reputation, all profanity and verbal abuse on an inanimate object were removed before submission.)

You can read “Waiting” and “Lost in Windows 8” in The Talking Stick, Volume 23. This is my fifth year to be published in this anthology and I'm honored to be included with other writers who know the length of the winter, the heat of the summer and the short breath-taking springs and autumns of Minnesota. Kudos to Jackpine Writers' Bloc for making this literary journal possible.

Bronze Winner

2014-10-11T19:18:00.000-05:00

I'm excited to recently learn my second submission, Evening Shadows, was chosen as a 2014 Bronze Winner in the WomensMemoirs.com “First Paragraph Contest.” Though this story is fictional, I was inspired to write it when I remembered my grandfather died within two years after my grandma's death in the late 1970s. I stepped into Grandpa’s shoes after Grandma died and imagined how lonely his life must have been without her, how memories of her lingered in the farmhouse they'd shared for sixty-some years.

You can read my first paragraph entry here.

But that's not all.

When the judge informed me I was on the only entrant to win two awards (my nonfiction story, Betting Against the Odds, won Honorable Mention), I felt as if I was on top of the world, like a kid at the top of a Ferris Wheel with a tickle in my tummy.

Now that my feet are planted back on the ground, I'm inspired to add to some twists and turns to the "joyride" (plot) of these stories, and maybe some day they'll be published in their entirety. Only then, like Paul Harvey's segment, will you read "the rest of the story."

First Paragraph Contest

2014-09-22T20:55:00.001-05:00

With my new writers toolbox in hand, I tweaked the “snares” in two stories I’d written and entered them in the “First Paragraph Contest” sponsored by WomensMemoirs.com, a contest which was seeking best first paragraphs for both fiction and nonfiction.

I must have done something right as I see my name with my nonfiction story title, Betting Against the Odds, on the Honorable Mention list.

Each Tuesday the judge will announce the Bronze, Silver, Gold and Grand Prize winners with their first paragraph published on WomensMemoirs.com. Comments on the site are suggesting Honorable Mentions paragraphs be included, too. The judge is considering publishing all contestants’ work, which I'm crossing my fingers will happen. I'd love to see how everyone “snared" the judges to pick their work.

Now I wait to see if my fiction first paragraph is a winner. If it’s not, that’s ok. The workshop helped me hone my writing skills. The contest allowed my work to be evaluated and an Honorable Mention boosted my spirit.

Workshop Recharged My Writing

2014-09-16T18:54:00.000-05:00

Though my summer was filled with too many things to do, I'm glad I took time to attend a writers’ workshop, “How to Structure a Novel,” presented by Minnesota author, David Housewright. He has written sixteen crime/mystery novels, and after listening to him, I can understand why he has been so successful. He spoke with authority, his words so compelling and dynamic, I waved good-bye to writers’ slump which has plagued my mind for too long.

He got to the point, replacing the oh-so-familiar hook with “snare,” plot with “joy ride,” and resolution with “pay-off.” No handouts, I wrote notes until my fingers began to cramp. Let me share them with you.

SNARE:

The beginning of a novel is most important. Draw in reader. Raise questions. What kind of story are we reading as shown by language and tone? Is it dark? Is it light-hearted? Make reader care how story turns out on first page. This is no time for warm up. A reader in 23 seconds decides if they want to read on. If an agent is not interested by page 10, he will toss it. If the characters are not known by page 20, he will toss it. If there is no clue what will happen next by page 30, he will toss it.

What Not to Do in the Snare:

NEVER EVER begin with weather. (Characters are what is important to reader.)
AVOID beginning with a prologue. (Instead, include it as backstory, or put somewhere else.)
DO NOT open with dialogue without context. (Why? Because we don’t know who is speaking.)
DO NOT interrupt a scene. (Let scene play out with a purpose or clue, introducing character who will come later while avoiding long descriptions or long conversations which do not reveal something reader needs to know.)
DO NOT tell the reader what is going to happen next. (Example: person’s life changed, or if I’d only known….)
AVOID complex opening scene. Keep it simple, leaving an image in reader’s mind.

JOY RIDE:

Keep it interesting like a roller coaster ride. Most novels have 70,000 word count. By 5000 word count you must have reader engaged. Middle of story (joy ride) is where most stories die.

Have INTERESTING things happen. Sub-plots are opportunities to introduce characters to others like someone evil, or to introduce conflict between characters. Hint: Mr. Housewright cuts out newspaper articles with interesting ideas and refers to them while writing.
Keep story MOVING. Add details that moves story from scene to scene and character to character.
CONFLICT moves story. Inflict difficulties for protagonist to overcome before he can attain what he wants. Other conflicts are central or chronic. For example: Alzheimer parent, bum leg, or feud with a neighbor. Conflict can be internal. For example: character is a racist, alcoholic, has anger management issues, or has a phobia. Conflict can be transient. Temporary problems like a jealous husband, character stuck in a traffic jam misses an appointment, or losing a phone number.
Pile on the MISERY. Plague character with discomfort. Examples: If a character who is afraid of heights, put him/her in high places. Put an alcoholic in a bar. Put a person afraid of dying in a funeral home or caring for a loved one who is dying. Think of a bad situation and make it worse. Examples: husband is missing, unplanned pregnancy, car won’t start, or stuck in a snowstorm.
CLIFF HANGERS. Finish the scene where character is in danger or other very difficult situation. Don’t cut off and leave reader hanging.
Have FUN. Intertwine writing with outrageous laughter, or intricacies of human condition, or write about the world where the character exists which makes great filler for middle of story.

PAY OFF:

Must be strong and means everything. Promises resolution. Last chapter sells next book.

Writing exercise: Listen to a Beethoven Symphony (No. 9 or No. 7). Listen to the movement and then the crescendo. They do NOT have a vague ending!
Beneficial to know how your book ends BEFORE you begin writing.
Pay close attention to FINAL sentence. You should envision the picture in the reader’s mind.
Leave reader satisfied. Ending doesn’t have to be happy. Don’t leave questions unanswered. Reader needs to know story is over.
How character acts out in significant events in story REVEALS significance of the ending. Don’t explain…don’t say “I learned…” Ending should speak for itself.
Trick endings are clever twists where the reader didn’t see it coming. He says, “How did I miss that?” Reader realizes appearances can be deceiving, but even though bad guys need to get their just dues, the ending MUST fit with what happened before. Examples: O. Henry wrote endings with a twist, usually about ordinary people. William March story, “Bad Seed” ends with a horrific twist.

~ ~ ~

I write primarily creative nonfiction short stories, and don’t expect to be writing a novel any time soon, but these writing tips are helpful for any writer. Now, I'm revisiting stories from my rejection folder and injecting them with clear images and subtle hints, sprinkling my character(s) with unique traits, conflict, misery, and suspense that will keep readers interested and hungry for the story’s ending. I guess I knew these things before but somehow this workshop speaker's playfulness with words pumped up my energy and was all I needed to recharge my writing.

I Hit the Refresh Button: I'm Back!

2014-04-21T12:55:00.000-05:00

I haven’t been posting in my blog for a while. Why?

You know that feeling when you meet a certain someone you’ve been waiting for all your life. You press the pause and hold buttons on your life. Nothing is as important as that person who melts your heart. My writing suffers because I can’t concentrate. Glimmers of unwritten stories come to mind but if I don’t get them down on paper right away, they are forgotten. My house suffers, too. Spring cleaning remains undone on to-do lists, which get longer every day.

When this special person popped into my life, my world turned upside down. My dirty house begs to be cleaned, but I’m easily diverted as a picture of my special someone is on my wallpaper. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, which I know from personal experience is very true. My special someone lives over two hundred miles away, too far to hug and kiss each day. So when I feel the unrelenting pull to connect, to say Good morning, or Good night or I miss you so much, honey, I press a button on my computer.

My first granddaughter, my precious Ellie Mae, looms up on the screen.

A beautiful bundle of joy... a face so innocent, so pure and so cute... her eyes looking into Grandma’s eyes and I melt into a puddle.

Now tell me…could you get anything done if you could look at her all day?

Deer Hunting Surprises

2013-11-26T15:47:00.000-06:00

The freshly laundered lace curtains I hung up three weeks ago are now stuffed over the curtain rods. Window screens lean against the living room wall. The third and last weekend of deer hunting season and only one measly buck downed, the windows must expose maximum viewing range. Hunting clothes, reeking of spilled doe scent, are piled on my living room couch. Rifles lean against door jams, ready to assault an unwary deer. Sorrels warm next to the wood stove and weep a brown, watery substance. Wet woolen socks suck the varnish from my wooden chair backs that now look like they’ve been smeared with toothpaste. I choke down a sob and I wonder why I bothered with fall house cleaning.

Though I’d scrubbed the refrigerator upstairs during my cleaning frenzy, I suddenly realized I’d forgotten to check the box freezer downstairs. Teetering on the basement steps while clutching a cardboard box of packaged ground venison, I prayed I wouldn’t fall headfirst onto the clammy floor.

Our basement will never be one of those cozy family rooms where you want to hang out. Like a dungeon, the ceiling joists are flossed with cobwebs. The cement floor and walls are damp and cold. When I turned around the stairway, I felt a chill run up my spine when I saw the freezer lid that should be sealed like tight lips. Crunchy ice boiled from the lid corner like a festering cold sore.

Thankfully, we don’t throw anything away that might still have some life in it. Our mini freezer now looked darn good. Since the big boy needed to be defrosted, I moved frozen goods from big boy into little boy. I have enough frozen vegetables you’d think I was a Doomsday Prepper. Without an ounce of room to spare, I slammed down the lid.

At the bottom of the big freezer I found several frost-bitten items: A Walmart bag of chicken nuggets with a 2009 expiry date, a baggie marked “Cindy’s 'Broken heart' 11/20/2008” that looked like a piece of termite-infested wood that no doubt was the heart I’d plucked from the buck I’d shot that year, and an orange popsicle that had exploded under extreme weight.

While l got my exercise running up and down the stairs and prying slabs of ice from the freezer walls and flinging them into a cooler to reduce my sopping-up time, Jim had shot more game for the table.

Looking like a Redneck, he drove by the kitchen window with a deer head strapped to the front of the four-wheeler wearing ragged coveralls held together with duct tape!

I swear I will burn them whenever I can find the place where he hides them. Wearing those damn things, you’d think he didn’t have a penny to his name. He has two pairs of almost-new coveralls, but he refuses to wear them.

“The old pair is good enough and besides I don’t want to get the new ones dirty,” he says. “You have enough cleaning to do.”

That I do as I watch him walk across the kitchen floor with a trail of mud following him out the door.

In Retrospect

2013-10-11T17:12:00.002-05:00

In retrospect is befitting to the cover of this year's anthology, The Talking Stick, Volume 22, a publication of the Jackpine Writers Bloc. Why? One reason is because my story, "Breaking Out," was chosen for publication.
Looking back, I remember how I was feeling when I wrote the story. I had a bad case of cabin fever after a long and brutal winter and then a late-blooming spring. I felt like my house was a jail with no promise of ever getting out. But I did. I jumped in my car and drove to my wooded paradise on the Otter Tail River, only to find my cabin was sick, too.
I hope you get a chuckle or two while reading my story.

I'm the first to admit I am not a poet, but I was pleasantly surprised my poem, "Unanswered Prayers," was also selected for this year's issue. Though the subject is somber, writing it helped me reflect on how I could be a better person by taking time to visit the sick and elderly. As we live in this fast-paced world, those forgotten souls are the ones who don't forget who took time to brighten their lonesome days.

If you would like your own copy of the book you can purchase one from the Jackpine Writers Block web site: The Talking Stick

The Meaning of 4-H

2013-09-12T20:26:00.000-05:00

While my three grandsons spent a week with us last month, one day we took them to the Beltrami County Fair. The boys were excited to visit the poultry barn because Mommy and Daddy promised them they could raise chickens next summer. Jim asked one of the 4-H youngsters what the four H’s stood for and the boys circled around him waiting for his answer. The kid just shrugged his shoulders and gave us a dumb stare. What? Made me wonder if his parents had raised the chickens and he was there to show them off. Something very important has been lost since I was a member of the Heinola Hustlers 4-H Club back some fifty years ago.

For the record, the 4-H Members Pledge:
I pledge...
My HEAD to clearer thinking
My HEART to greater loyalty
My HANDS to larger service
My HEALTH to better living
...for my club, my community, my country, and my world.
The meaning of 4-H is more than going to the county or state fair. 4-H gives young people the opportunity to learn life skills and develop wholesome attitudes that will help them be productive, self-directing and contributing members in a democratic society. 4-H members learn practical skills about things that interest them like raising animals and vegetables, cooking, shooting sports, technology and so much more.

4-H members learn to think, plan and reason with their HEAD. With their HEART, they are trained to be true, kind and sympathetic. With their HANDS they learn to be useful, helpful and skilled. For optimal HEALTH they are taught healthy eating habits, physical fitness, how to manage their emotions, and how to develop and maintain positive relationships.

With a curriculum like that, I think 4-H should be a prerequisite for all young people before their lives are dunked in fast food, or become bullies who mistakenly think they are following a path to leadership, or vent their rage by pointing a gun.

Maybe the kid at the fair had a mental block like I’ve been experiencing a lot lately. Maybe he was told not to talk to strangers. Maybe he was bashful. Maybe he looked at the 4-H four-leaf clover emblem as simply a lucky charm. After reciting the 4-H pledge at club meetings you’d think the four H’s would have rolled right off this tongue. But they didn’t and that made me feel sad. After being unable to answer our simple question, I wonder if he sought the answer when he got home. I sure hope so.

Costs of Care

2013-08-28T09:39:00.000-05:00

Originally posted on Monday, August 12, 2013.
I have been purchasing my own health insurance since 2007, and put my faith in luck and a healthy lifestyle and covered myself with a high-deductible catastrophic medical plan. When my right eye went goofy in 2010, the tests and numerous eye doctor appointments were draining my savings account. I felt the pinch of high medical bills each time I opened my wallet. It hurt even more when I paid for healthcare that didn’t give me a return on my investment.

After six visits to my eye doctor so far, my diagnosis is dry eyes. What? I’ve had dry eyes most of my life! I could have enjoyed a tropical vacation last winter with the money I paid them to tell me something I already knew.

When I learned about a Healthcare Essay Contest, I submitted my story, "Looking Through My Eyes." The writing contest was sponsored by Costs of Care, a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization whose mission is to transform American healthcare delivery by empowering patients and their caregivers to deflate medical bills.

Their contest was seeking the best stories from patients, doctors, and nurses illustrating the importance of cost-awareness in healthcare. Entries were judged based on the quality of the writing and the relevance of the anecdote to the topic of cost-awareness in medicine.

My story was not a finalist, but it was among a select few that really stood out with them and would “...focus much needed national attention on the possibilities and challenges of providing cost-conscious, high value care.”

You can read my story as well as other selected healthcare story submissions on the Costs of Care blog site: http://www.costsofcare.org/lookingthroughmyeyes/

Grandsons on the Farm

2013-08-13T12:05:00.002-05:00

Two weeks ago, my grandsons Matthew (9), Brody (7) and Nick (4) spent part of their summer vacation with us on the farm. Though I was envisioning homesickness setting in and dreading a 250-mile trip back to the Cities, they were too busy having old-fashioned fun.

With pumped-up energy they rode our vintage bikes, spitting up gravel on our driveway. Running down the rows in our cornfields was like playing in a jungle, a place where one could easily get lost. I wondered if I would be sounding an alert: “Four-Year-Old Lost in Corn Field!” But their sun-kissed faces popped out when Grandpa said it was time to go.

They swam in Long Lake, its water so clean you can see the hair on your toes. They roasted marshmallows over the bonfire and later, begged Grandpa to heat up the sauna. They sweated so much their cheeks looked like red tomatoes when they rolled into the house.

They rode on Grandpa Jim’s tractors and attended the Beltrami County Fair where they tested the pedal tractor collection, too. After sampling corn dogs, French fries and chocolate malts, they rocked on real ponies and felt a tickle-in-the-tummy riding on the Ferris Wheel.

Each day we played bocce ball and one day they even let me win. Setting up cardboard boxes at the corner of our house to catch unwary chipmunks was their every day battle, but no one complained when it was time to help Grandma pick green beans.

Quiet time was playing under an old oak tree that now has boy-made roads and a mini pond with toy cars and trucks stuck in the muck. As we drove to the cabin for tubing on the Otter Tail River and to reunite with their parents, Nick remembered his forgotten toys, and said, “That’s okay, Grandma. You can keep them at your house. We’ll play with them the next time we come.”

Next time... I can hardly wait to feel like a kid again. Sharing a week with my grandchildren was like a shot of “youth hormone” that has given me a boost to finish my own childhood memoir. Next time, I will read a chapter each night for story time. Now I have a deadline...ready, set, go!

Bugs are ticking me off

2013-06-30T12:59:00.000-05:00

They say wood ticks are the worst we have seen in ten years. What's even worse is when a bulls-eye ring formed around a tick bite behind my knee. I fill my prescription for doxycyline to protect me from the miseries of Lyme's disease and left the drug store $100 poorer. Why? There is a shortage of this antibiotic that once cost only $10 and I wonder why this happens during tick season. Is big pharma getting greedy, perhaps? Of course, doxycyline causes severe skin irritations when you are in the sun so for ten of our fourteen days of sunshine I was mostly confined to the house.

I don’t remember so many big black flies with buggy-brown eyes since I was growing up on the farm. They mindlessly thump their blue and green metallic bodies against my windows and hover around the screen door waiting to sneak in. Weeds are thriving in my garden as I can't last more than ten minutes hoeing, my arms swatting these pests that weasel in my hair and wiggle under my sunglasses. To protect my arms and legs, I wear long pants and a long-sleeved shirt and my brown jersey gloves. Finally, we have sunny weather and the humidity is sky-high with all the recent rain and I feel like I'm in a sweat lodge. I'm miserable, hot and itchy when I retreat to the house.

In my last post I couldn't wait to mow the lawn. Today I mowed the lawn for the FIFTH time and my eagerness to jump on one of Jim's vintage riding lawnmowers has diminished. Whizzing in third gear through coveys of insects, I must have looked like a loony grandma on a go-cart. Under a grove of basswood trees, I downshifted when my face was swathed in cob webs. Black and gold tent caterpillars dangled from the trees like tinsel on a Christmas tree while I was wrapped in my new silk robe. I screamed in horror but I didn't stop because if I did, like drones, the mosquitoes would attack me.

This summer has seen an explosion of insects. No doubt, they had a long mating season due to our rainy weather. Multiple hatches equaled multiple scratches, but I’ve been taking liquid vitamin B-Complex and sprinkling garlic on everything I eat which help prevent insect bites. Today the sun is shining and there is no rain in the forecast for this week. Time for my outdoor projects and hopefully my skin will leave a bad taste in the mouths of bugs and they will fly away and look for more edible prey...and for that I pray!

Is it Spring or is it Summer?

2013-05-22T19:36:00.000-05:00

On my way home from town today, I stopped to pick pussy willows from the roadside ditch, their fuzzy heads one of the first signs of spring. Yes, we are only two months behind schedule, or maybe summer is one month ahead. In Minnesota, anything is possible. Though we had a teaser of warm weather earlier this month, this week has been cold and wet. After several days of drizzle and temperatures in the mid-40s, I’ve sneaked out to the woodshed for an armful of dry wood, even though I vowed not to fire up the Jôtul stove anymore this year.

But today is a beautiful sun-shiny day and the rain gauge registered almost 2”which gave our patchy lawn a generous sip of water. The grass is now a lush green, tender blades popping out overnight, and I can’t believe I’m saying this...but I want to mow the lawn!

We have more Baltimore Orioles this year than normal and I can understand why. They’re hungry! They feed on flower nectar, insects and grape jelly. Too cold for flowers or insects, they have depended on me to feed them. They slurped up a 32 ounce jar of jelly in two days and, thankfully, I grabbed the last two jars at the grocery store today.

Female and male Baltimore Oriole eating grape jelly.

With our long winter, I wrote a story with a cabin fever theme for The Talking Stick this year. I recently learned my story, “Breaking Out,” was selected for publication along with my poem, “Unanswered Prayers.” I am honored that this is my fourth year to have my work published in this anthology which is published by my writer’s group, Jackpine Writers’ Bloc, http://www.jackpinewriters.com/

Good news, good weather and I’m singing Eric Church’s song, Springsteen:

“...Baby is it spring or is it summer...

Woah-oh-oh-oh, Woah-oh-oh-oh, Woah-oh-oh-oh, Oh-h-h-h
Woah-oh-oh-oh, Woah-oh-oh-oh, Woah-oh-oh-oh, Oh-h-h-h”

But I don’t care which one it is—at least it’s not winter!

Farm Girls

2013-05-01T18:44:00.000-05:00

Writing my life story is a work-in-progress that is so often interrupted with mundane tasks like cooking and cleaning the house. But I welcome the opportunity to get out of the house and attend workshops that help me fine-tune my memoir writing.

Angela Foster taught three memoir writing workshops I attended in Park Rapids and Perham back in 2010 and 2011: Writing Your Story and Memoir Building Blocks. I instantly felt a connection with her. Why? Because she's a farm girl! She graciously critiqued several amateur chapters of my memoir as a “thank you” for attending the Perham workshop after braving slick roads after a snow storm. She helped me find my “voice” incorporating dialogue, emotional tags and imaginary that gave life to my story growing up on a farm. What better teacher could I have than another farm girl whose roots are in Pequot Lakes!

Today I attended a program at the Gonvick Community Center where Angela's sister, Candice, shared with the audience their impressions and reflections from their new book, Farm Girls, which was published in January 2013.

If you learned to swear in Norwegian or share a two-holer outhouse with your cousins, you’ll enjoy the poetry and prose of these sisters. From memories of Norwegian ancestors and growing up on a Minnesota dairy farm to dreams of Oprah’s couch and rapping with Eminem, Farm Girls will take you back to the days of rural schools, ‘moon light, star light, hope to see a ghost tonight,’ and the auction of the family farm.

Farm Girls, co-authored by Candice Simar and Angela Foster, can be ordered here.

After the program, Candace presented a two-hour memoir writing workshop. Using family photographs for inspiration, she helped us pull out details--the first step to writing a memoir piece. She had us scribbling what we saw, what we felt, what we tasted, what we heard, what we smelled and before long the snapshot had life. We all left with the great beginnings of a short memoir story.

I feel a connection with every poem and story in Farm Girls which inspires me to work on my memoir every day. Tucked back in my mind, I didn’t think there would be an audience out there that could relate to a farm girl. I follow the sisters' book tours, radio and television interviews via Facebook as they drive from town to town through rural Minnesota, and I can't help but think: Maybe my life story will be published someday, too.

Not Your Mother's Book. . .On Holidays

2013-04-28T11:22:00.001-05:00

My story currently entitled "Let the Fireworks Begin" has made it through the first-selection round for publication in Not Your Mother's Book...On Holidays. The book is slated for release on October 1, 2013 by Publishing Syndicate.

As noted on their website, their series of books consist of real-life stories written by individuals 18 years and older. NYMB is tailored for a mature-audience readership; stories may contain language and situations akin to a PG-13 or TV-14 rating. While not all stories will fall into this rating system, the series will not focus on death/dying, cry-your-eyes out sad selections, but only hip, fun, modern and very-much-today type stories that will entertain our readers.

I'm crossing my fingers (and hope you are too!) my story comes out a winner in their final selection process.

If you are a writer, check out their website where you can find titles of upcoming books that still need stories, or check out their online book store to purchase books already released and read sample stories: http://www.publishingsyndicate.com/publishing_syndicate/submissions/title_descriptions/holidays.html

Cabin Fever

2013-04-08T14:15:00.003-05:00

Cabin fever, that relentless tugging and pulling inside me, had me doing some pretty irrational things yesterday. Wearing my Harley Davidson tank top and denim cut-offs, I sat in a lawn chair and stared out my window at the white-white snow. An itchy twitchy bitchy feeling crawled down my leg and my foot pumped so hard my flip flop dangled from my big toe.

I tried to relax and centered my chair to capture the sun’s rays. I’m sure our antique windows have no UV protection with their wavy lines that distort the view outside. But that’s okay. My skin was screaming to burn. The rippling glass looked like squiggly heat waves. I pictured the snow banks as sand dunes on some remote beach. Some place warm, very warm. My body was soaking up the hot tropical sun, a cool drink sweating in my hand...but that all faded away as a cloud bank snuffed out the sun.

Spring has been dragging her feet this year up here in the North Woods of Minnesota. I’m sick of our Winter Wonderland that has lost its wonder. After our first full day of Spring I stuck a yardstick in a snow bank, anxious to record the snow melt. Ironically, on March 21 we measured the snow depth at 21 inches, and though I had hoped for 1 inch on April 1^st, that was only wishful thinking.

From March 21 – April 5, the snow melted down to 11-½ inches. But Ole Man Winter dumped another 8 inches on Saturday and (surprise!) 7 inches last night while we sat in the dark.

Our deck view of Spring on April 8, 2013

The cement-like weight of the snow is making my pine trees groan. I feel their pain and pity the red robin huddling under the branches, hungry and cold. Power was still intermittent this morning and so is the forecast. The Weather Channel radar shows a snotty mass crawling across the Dakotas in our direction. The yardstick now measures in at a tad over 17 inches and I fear by the end of the week it will be buried.

As for global warming, that’s pretty much a mute subject up here in the Snow Belt. In the last five minutes I’ve binged on three chocolate chip cookies and a bloated vanilla pudding bismarck. But, sadly, these comfort foods do nothing to warm me up. :(