Author: Alyce Faye Bragg

Father’s Day has come and gone, and I find myself still thinking about my father. He has been gone for

Blackbirds are taking over the bird feeder as they wipe out another sack full of seed. Cardinals and mourning doves

When God finished creating the earth, and everything that was in it, He looked upon what He had made. “And

The days are still hot and humid as summer lingers on, but there is a change coming soon. August brings

I would like to send a great, big hug to all my friends who have missed me, and especially to

Placid June days seemed to have exploded with searing heat and booming thunderstorms that pop up at the drop of

How long do you keep missing your father? Our Heavenly Father took my Dad to heaven 39 years ago, yet

Today is West Virginia’s birthday, and I am pondering the reason why God chose to put me in this particular

April has left us, and with her departure is taking most of our wet and gloomy days, and, leaving us

April tucks her slightly damp robes about her and glides gracefully from the hills, leaving tranquil May to reign for

The cold, rainy days of March seem to have bled over into the usually warmer days of April, with more

It was still dark when the women arose from their beds, hurriedly put on their garments, and started down the

March did come in like the proverbial lion, howling ferociously and throwing his weight all around. He is still crouched

A fine snow is sifting down upon the countryside, and the cows stand on the hillside and look bewildered at

“In winter’s cold and sparkling snow The garden in my mind does grow. I look outside to blinding white, And

BARNACLES By Sidney Lanier My soul is sailing through the sea, But the Past is heavy and hindreth me. The

“Tis the week after Christmas, and all through the house…“I wanted to leave my decorations up until New Year’s Day

I was dozing on the couch a few days before Christmas, when the scent of warm pine needles and candle

I’d like to climb on the wooden sled with Larry, and let Daddy pull us across the snow to hunt

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds and naked woods, and meadows brown and