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“Waiting (Wind of Change),” a poem by Janet Grace Riehl
In just a few days I’m making a huge move in my life and where I live. I’ll be moving from Lake County in Northern California to St. Louis, Missouri where I’ll just be an hour away from my father. Pop, 91, lives just across the river in SW Illinois, about 6 miles upriver from…
Riehlife Contemplation Series…and Lights Out for Earth Hour
I’ve been harvesting my journals this week. One of the fruits of my harvest is this series of Riehlife contemplations which I hope you’ll enjoy and use: –for cultivating your own contemplations. –for starting conversations with loved ones and friends. –for prompting your writing. What are your foul weather blue sky gifts? What does your…
Acres of Roses arriving on Valentine’s Day doorstep 2008 made me weak and knocked me off my feet
Twice I responded to the summoning of my doorbell. Twice a grinning and harried floral delivery man handed me a huge bouquet of roses…not red, not pink, but peachy…my favorite color. A dozen times 2 = 2 dozen roses for 2008 Valentine’s Day. I’m sure sometime in my life I’ve been sent flowers by delivery….
Roses on your pillow at Hotel Carlton (from the hands of Theo McKinney)
That “30th anniversary” picture represents the usual welcome I like to surprise visitors with when they come to town to celebrate a honeymoon or romantic anniversary; the petals are real, and, whenever I can find out secretly in advance what the actual wedding flowers were, I try my best to get that flower and color…
Triptych: Jeweled Bones, Right Panel: Jewels Under Glass–Flash Fiction in Three parts by Janet Grace Riehl
This flash fiction of 3 parts, or panels, was originally published in The Portland Review. I’m posting it on Riehlife in three parts. “Triptych: Jeweled Bones” links to an on-going theme of how the land nurtures us as writers and creative people. Arletta Dawdy found inspiration in this piece and I’ll be posting her story-poem…
“Stepping Out,” a poem by Janet Grace Riehl on shoes, reconciliation, and finding your own path
She walks in beauty, like the night.—Lord Byron Walking the Beauty Way. –Navajo I stand in my Mother’s shoes—a few sizes too big for me. Mother is dead and gone. She has passed over. I stand in my sister’s shoes—a few sizes too big for me. Julia is dead and gone. She has passed over….