Mother’s Swedish Spice Cake

My mom visited unexpectedly last week when I came across her recipe for spice cake in an old box of photos. Although she left us almost twenty-five years ago, she manages to pop in every so often. And there she was in that box long buried in the back of the space under the stairs. A lovely surprise. Our way too hot weather cooperated by cooling down enough for me to turn on the oven this morning. I’m not the three-year old picutured on the recipe card anymore, but this morning’s cake tasted just as good as it did then. I’m sure.

Produce, Far Aisle

One of my poems has been selected as a finalist in the Southwest Writers 2022 Writing Contest. A nice surprise to open the month of July. Here’s to dropping strawberry stems as we flee from the world.

Golf Haiku

Homage to National Poetry month  and the return of more suitable golfing weather.


April grass grows green.

Springtime skies bring wind and dust.

I approach the tee.

Clouds laugh.


Stand at the tee box.

Aim for the stars and the sky.

Can not see the flag.


Oh little white ball

Nested in grass so deep green.

Where will you fly next?


Soar into the sky—

Bump along the rocky trail—

Please sink this last putt.