Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • Isn’t it a beautiful day? Rain is pelting, smacking against leaves that have shaded us all summer. Those tall insecure maples. Whish….swash.. in wind we barely hear.

    Thoughts flit back and forth in my brain as the flutter of bird wings at migration time… now. Geese are flying south over our house… honking, circling, re-launching from the pond across the way. It is that time. In November, the great Water Fowl Festival takes place on the Eastern Shore. People reserve rooms at hotels for years in advance in order to see and perhaps purchase great art or precious wooden sculptures, decoys, children’s art, or learn more… or see and meet new or familiar enthusiasts. The Eastern Shore is a world of its own. I love to cross the Bay Bridge and ease myself into ES rhythm. Antiques pile up here, there, everywhere! Ice cream. Crab cakes. Airy wines.

    I love this time of year. Memories from the farm come back to me rich in the unique smell of Bucks County soil. The smell of leaves, corn shucked by great scary-beast machines and quiet walks in the woods which always flushed up a deer or two, or more. A buck! My father (Eagle Scout) taught us as children, “As the Indians did, children, tread softly in your moccasins… sh-h-h-h…. toe-heel, toe-heel, toe-heel. That way the deer or the badger cannot hear you.” I still walk toe-heel when I want to be silent in the forest. Back then, only the owners of their own properties sat in tree-stands before dawn. Guess what? As I write, it is snowing. Our first snowfall.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.