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Planning to set up a blog… |
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For some reason the instructions for setting up a blog -create a book- |
| Stories That Travel Across Generations My grandmother lived to be 104. Every few months she would mail my daughter a little story — always gentle, always a touch magical, always written just for her. It was her way of keeping connection alive across miles and time. I loved that so much I quietly adopted the tradition myself. Now I send my granddaughter a story each month. We only see each other once a year, so these little tales have become our thread — something soft and steady between us. She’s nine now, and she writes back. Her stories are bold and curious: adventures inside video games, mysteries about lost treasures, worlds where kids get to be heroes. This tale is one I wrote for her, shared here with the same hope my grandmother carried — that imagination is a bridge, and love can travel inside a story. ⸻ Windy Beth Wolf and the Visit to Mossy Hollow A Tale of Kindness. In a world few know about, nestled just past the misty thickets of Whispering Pines, lives a kindhearted girl named Windy Beth Wolf. With soft ears like her forest kin and emerald eyes full of wonder, she is part girl, part wolf-spirit, and all heart. By her side trots her loyal companion, Ruffin — a clever, caramel-colored wolf pup with eyes like twilight and a nose that always knows when something’s amiss. Together, they are the heart of their woodland village, loved by creatures great and small. One sunny morning, Windy’s mom was busy baking, filling their tree-home with the scent of honey-cinnamon pies, peanut-butter cookies, and a triple-berry cake so airy it looked kissed by clouds. Windy’s ears twitched with joy as she packed the treats carefully into a woven basket. “Ruffin, it’s time,” she whispered. The pup answered with a joyful bark. Today, they were visiting Mr. and Mrs. Tallowtree, an elderly couple who lived deep in Mossy Hollow, where sunlight trickled through ivy and time moved a little slower. The Tallowtrees had once been herbalists, famous for their healing teas and glowing firefly jam, but age had softened their steps and left their pantry shelves a little lonely. With wind in her braids and purpose in her step, Windy and Ruffin traveled along leaf-dappled trails, across babbling brooks, and beneath arches of blooming foxglove. Along the way, forest creatures waved from branches and burrows, for everyone knew Windy Beth brought light wherever she wandered. At the hollow, Mr. Tallowtree was tending a crooked fence, his back bent, hands trembling. “Oh, my stars,” he chuckled when he spotted them. “It’s the Wolf Girl and her handsome helper!” Mrs. Tallowtree wiped her hands on her apron, eyes glimmering. “You’ve brought sunshine with you, haven’t you?” “We brought goodies!” Windy beamed, setting down the basket. “Mom says love is best shared in crumbs and frosting.” They spent the afternoon sipping gentle herbal tea, listening to old stories, and laughing until the wind turned golden. Windy mended the rickety gate while Ruffin politely rounded up sleepy chickens and nudged them toward their coop. By sunset, the basket was empty, but Windy and Ruffin’s hearts glowed warm as hearth-embers. Because in a world few know about, the smallest acts of kindness ripple the farthest — and Windy Beth Wolf, with Ruffin by her side, was born to make those ripples shine. “Be the heart that helps. Even if it’s just with cookies.” — Windy Beth Wolf |
| Stories wear masks. Some show you battles and prophecy first — wolves, destiny, old magic stirring in the dark. But beneath every legend, there’s a quieter truth humming like a heartbeat. Not loud. Not demanding. Just… present. Waiting to be seen. This Moon Saga carries that kind of truth. It isn’t only a tale of wolves, tribes, and humans bound by ancient promises. It’s also a story about fear — how people learn it, inherit it, cling to it. Prejudice doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it breathes in silence, in glances that look away, in histories no one wants to face. And yet, even there, love keeps trying to bloom. Across borders and bloodlines. Across old wounds and older grudges. Across the places where suspicion once rooted itself deep. A girl stands at the center of that struggle. She isn’t a warrior because she fights. She’s a warrior because she chooses gentleness where others choose walls. She bridges worlds by believing they can meet in the first place. Her kindness isn’t softness. It is rebellion. It is strength in its most unassuming form. Every prophecy in this story isn’t just fate — it’s a choice. Each act of grace, a small revolt. Each forgiveness, a chain breaking link by link. It is heart, It is wolf It is moon It speaks one simple belief: Love — steady, patient, unafraid — is the oldest magic there is. And even when the world divides itself into us and them, the heart can choose we instead. |
| I am just trying to figure out how this site works right now… So a blog about my work. Starting with I believe in love at first sight, and I believe in happily ever after. Often, I start with a little tease like “Sharp’s Awakening Heart” —just a glimpse of a moment, a spark on the page. It’s my way of feeling my way into a story, testing its heartbeat. Slowly, almost without realizing it, the characters begin to embed themselves in my heart. They whisper their secrets, reveal their wounds, and before long, their stories take on a life of their own. It never feels forced. It’s as if they were waiting all along, ready for me to listen. And when I do, the words come—not as work, but as a kind of magic. |
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