I have been quiet lately. After returning from our trip to Scotland life took over. Since late last year and the tears and the depression, I got back up and into the game. I volunteered for an organization that I care deeply about and have been on their fundraising committee for their big event of the year. It was hugely successful and thankfully now in my rearview mirror. Did I also mention I’m running for local office? That was another of my post-election decisions. If you want to have an impact on your community, you have to step up and get in the arena. I have been knocking on doors and meeting lots of people and listening to their concerns. More on this later, but first I want to take moment to remember the beauty of Scotland. Continue reading
local history
The Local Post Office: Selling Stamps and Community
In January Marla described her trip to one of the small post offices near our house. A few days ago I took a drive to visit other nearby post offices. On my drive I took photos and talked to the post men and women to learn more about them. I wanted to learn something about these towns and what the post offices meant to them: it was more than just sending packages and selling stamps. For many of these tiny dots on the map, a post office and a zip code is about identity. Continue reading
A trip to the post office
A few days ago I had some errands to do. I needed to get a card and mail some letters. Luckily for me, in the next village is a CVS pharmacy and right behind it is a post office. In my neck of the woods each little hamlet has it’s own post office. Many of them are tiny affairs in one or two room buildings. Continue reading
Time Travel at Zern’s Farmers Market
On Friday nights and Saturdays the place to go for local food items and an assortment of other shopping pleasures is Zern’s. This place is hard to describe. It’s part food market, part flea market, and part craft market. Wrap it all up into an indoor shopping experience in Gilbertsville, Pennsylvania. This iconic place has been around a long time. As a boy in the 1960s, my husband rode his bicycle there from his home in Pottstown, about six miles . Continue reading



