The Lone Prairie Blog

Have we lost our rhythm, our compelling stories ? I know I have not. My story is very real, though not as romantic as a war-time love, homesteading, or a sod house on the prairie. These things were not romantic during their time; I don’t want to spin a false tapestry in telling my story. My story? It’s in the dog’s death, the bareback horse races in the shelterbelt, the cat funerals with tears. It’s in canning season, the picking and snapping and cutting of beans, begging to

I went for my evening masochistic mile run and again wondered why people want to move to a rural area for the silence. I heard no...

Some people grill meat on Memorial Day. We buried ours. I don’t know what kind of celebrating you did for Memorial Day, but I’m going to...

I wish I hadn’t shared something that was only in its infancy. It wasn’t ready for a full attack, and now it will never be fully ready. An inability to defend it made it look weak when really it was only me, unprepared. New ideas are delicate infants. One thing I learned in art school—one thing that should have made me know better—was to never bring unfinished art into a critique. The critique can only be wrong because the art has yet to be completed. It’s the same as judging

While mowing today, I killed five salamanders. I was rather upset, as I find them cute. In an effort to redeem myself, I present to you,...

I recently spent two days house sitting and answering phones at a friend’s house while the family was gone. I always enjoy doing this....