Occasionally, when Mom got tired of driving twenty miles of dirt roads for everything, my parents would move the family to our town house.

The one in town.

It was a whole different lifestyle for me.

I had a tricycle.

Red.

Sturdy.

With a little plastic tassel…

  I was talking to a friend of mine on face book. The question she asked is does the change of the season make everyone nastalgic? I thought about this. Yes, it does. It makes me long for the times when I was young growing up in Pennsylvania on a small plot of land with barns, fruit trees, colored woods, long rustling grass and wood fires. The chill crisp in the air, warm woolen socks, the wood stove in the house with a tea pot boiling away on it and my mother baking bread everyday just as I…