Little Muddy Boots on the Farm

      Before we reached the cow stalls, the two little children tromped along happily in their rubber boots. As we approached the newly born calves and the pungent smells that comes with animals, we discovered that one child had an unusually sensitive nose. These odious odors tormented her as we wandered by the one-week-old calves. Clapping her hands over her nose, she whimpered piteously, hiding behind her mother.

      The little girl's brother had a different response to the farm encounter, which he embraced. I had fun catching his little moments.

        At the end of our tour we found the young girl and her mother, having peeled off from our group, hovering over a pond of goldfish. She had found a little paradise that brought rest to her nose.

Veronica A.


Just like Ma and Laura

     Motoring through the country side in my families' monstrous, blue-green vehicle, I glance at the twenty foot lines displaying the Amish, monotone garb. Finally, in my own back lawn, I eye the permanent drying lines. In a surge of interest, I ventured out to the green wire with my damp laundry. Securing the fabric pieces with clothes pins, I remember reading Little House on the Prairie about the adventures of Laura Ingalls. And embedded in my head, along with the fond yearnings to travel in my own covered wagon, was an illustration of linens on a line, rippling in the wind. Ma with a basket and a baby rolling in the tall grass. The more time I spend out here in the country, the more idyllic, childhood images I remember.

     I even have little neighbors who live by my lines. A couple birds have found a home in a little box attached to the post.

Veronica A. 


Prayer Journal

      When I lived in an apartment, my room was a dining nook off the living room. Floor to ceiling misted glass screens provided what privacy I could get. Having my own room was a luxury considering my three brothers shared a room, but it was not sound proof. I liked praying out loud in the mornings because it kept my mind from wandering, but I could never be sure who was listening in. So I began writing my prayers out, and ever since it has become a habit.
     Having your life worries written down on paper may be  uncomfortable at first, but when you do it for four years, journaling can give you perspective on the little tribulations that you suffer today. Some of the items prayed about in 2011 are still things that concern me today, even though I think of them as new anxieties. A book of your prayer life is also a great place to put scripture that has been helpful.

Veronica A.


Enola Low Grade Trail

      A scarf worthy coolness, a magical gloominess, and damp, leafy smells wafting through the air; I eagerly picked the July twenty-ninth as my walking day. The overcast sky recalled images of my Hogwarts-style library in Greenwich Village, and the former haunts of my book journeys. I was enthusiastic when my mom agreed to walk with me. Behind the chipped white facades of Quarryville's most time-loved wooden porches, a train line-turned-trail stretched over eight miles of rugged greenery. For forty-five minutes we sauntered over the grey gravel. A cream house with blue shutters caught my eye. It's little lonely windows on the edge of town reminded me of somewhere I had visited in a hardback. I can't wait for fall.

"There's a darkness on the edge of town." ~ Bruce Springsteen

Veronica A.


Daily Rituals

     Usually right before I nod off to sleep at night, I read a couple pages of something; just to settle my mind. I've been leisurely making my way through Daily Rituals by Mason Curry. The book is an anthology of the daily habits of well-known writers, composers, artists etc. Some are more detailed than others, the specifics range from a composers' working hours to how many pipes he smoked a day. But each brief description provides a sketch of the focal's mind and how it ticked.
      This book falls into place next to my people watching penchant. Not only can observing other's lives cause us to reconsider our own, but it can prompt us to appreciate the simple order of our daily schedule. As I peruse different approaches to organizing the twenty-four hour period, I'm finding that I'm inspired to arrange my habits in wiser ways. 

"Beethoven rose at dawn and wasted little time getting down to work. breakfast was coffee, which he prepared himself with great care--he determined that there should be sixty beans per cup, and he often counted them out one by one for a precised dose." ~ Daily Rituals by Mason Curry

Veronica A.


Prince Street Cafe

      Cafés are where I belong, munching on miniature meals and indulging my mild addiction to coffee. After a meeting in Lancaster, I slipped into this artistically grungy, wood paneled coffee room for a quick dinner. Prince Street Cafe's Rice Bowl is quite tasty, and as fresh as if I had made it at home. I was trying to be hip, so I bought a blue bottle of Saratoga Spring Water. I know, boring. But the blue glass can make any bland bouquet Pinterest-worthy. I motored home to the sounds of rain patters and Bastille's Pompeii capping off my second solo journey as a licensed driver.

I intend to venture out to this location again to assess the quality of their lattés.



Put Your Headphones On

I've been enjoying i tunes' internet radio recently. Sometimes a song comes on and I find myself dancing in the kitchen with my hand still slathered with soapy water from the dishes. Here are a couple tunes that I can't wait to get on my i pod.

1. "The Walker" by Fitz and The Tantrums

2. "Cool Kids" by Echosmith

3. "Girls Chase Boys" by Ingrid Michaelson 

Veronica A.