I sit a lot. How about you? In my writing studio, first thing in the morning, I settle into my “Bliss Chair.” (Have you added your blessing to it yet?) If I’m not careful, I’ll…
Phyllis Cole-DaiJanuary 24, 2022
Last night I dreamed about John. John was long married to Julia, my father’s cousin, once removed. “Just a shirt-tail relative,” you might be thinking. But John and Julia happened to live in Goshen, Indiana,…
Phyllis Cole-DaiJanuary 18, 2022
My goodness, what an outpouring of reader responses to “Gentle Way Home,” the cento I offered last week! The feedback has prompted me to do a follow-up, especially since you, like so many others, might…
Phyllis Cole-DaiJanuary 12, 2022
On this second day of 2022, I have to admit I’m emotionally drained. COVID is surging again. Rampaging wildfires have displaced thousands of people in Colorado. Thousands more are without power after record snowfall in…
Phyllis Cole-DaiJanuary 3, 2022
Up here in the northern hemisphere, we’re approaching the winter solstice. Marking the start of the winter season, December 21 will be the shortest day and the longest, darkest night of the year. After the…
Phyllis Cole-DaiDecember 23, 2021
I love music. I love to sing it, play it, compose it. I love to write about it (as I’m doing in The Singing Stick, my novel-in-progress). Most of all, I love to listen to…
Phyllis Cole-DaiDecember 7, 2021
“Do you know that awesome feeling when you get into bed, fall right to sleep, stay asleep all night, and wake up feeling refreshed? … Me neither.” So goes the joke. Here’s another: “I’m neither…
Phyllis Cole-DaiDecember 2, 2021
The first lie I can remember telling dates to my first day of kindergarten. The big classroom in our small-town school (long since razed) enchanted me. With a bank of tall windows along one side…
Phyllis Cole-DaiNovember 18, 2021
Nightly temperatures have been dipping into the twenties, but at our house, we’re still enjoying tomatoes, thanks to our friend Jim and the small greenhouse he rigged up in our “pandemic victory garden." Whenever I…
Phyllis Cole-DaiNovember 9, 2021
In the hardware store, I select a quart of interior paint from the brands on the shelf. Bright white, for household trim. “My,” the cashier says, as she rings me up, “you’re quite the golden…
Phyllis Cole-DaiOctober 26, 2021
I The woman wades into the shallow stream. The frigid October water nips the skin of her legs. The gravelly bottom bites the soles of her bare feet. It’s too late in the season for…
Phyllis Cole-DaiOctober 20, 2021
This week for Staying Power, I sat down to write one thing, and something totally different came out. (Surprise! Ain’t life grand?) What came out was a poem that imitates “The House That Jack Built,”…
Phyllis Cole-DaiOctober 12, 2021
