Peterboro baskets have developed a national reputation with their popularity and are used by farmers and fishermen.

This story was written with tears in my eyes as memories, even some forgotten it seemed, poured from inside. Grandpa’s farm and vacationing with my brother there gave happiness to my childhood that otherwise seems blurred, if not gone. I had been on Facebook a while when I had an invitation to play FarmVille. What great fun and now I can play a game where I can pretend to play on my Grandpa’s farm once again!

A Boy Caught Million Dollar Fish.

Anyone who’s lived in the Northern moutains and woods for any length of time knows that the coming of each season of the year is foretold by signs. And after the cities and their cacaphony, and concrete, and smells – and fears – have worn off, and you begin to find your place in the primordial nature of things, you begin to "see". You begin to listen. You begin… to feel. Inside… and out. And so… to know…

A ghost encounter on a New Hampshire highway.

Part five of a series detailing my 1,100 mile hike of the Appalachian Trail.

Okay, my Triond friends, this is something new for me. It is the introduction to a story I started writing about 20 years ago. I hoped to someday turn it into a novel, but life got in the way. I picked it up again about a month ago and thought that maybe, just maybe, it’s time to finally try to finish it. Hope you like it.

Two semi-estranged brothers trek up and down the coast of Maine in search of a popular, yet reclusive author.

Deacon’s Nook was a sleepy town in western New Hampshire. According to a local legend as old as the town itself, a witch lived in a cottage deep in the woods east of the town. Rumor had it that she was a refugee from the trials at Salem – a disciple of Satan who used the blood of children to extend her life to an unthinkable length.