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I cut off my own hands for the promise of a cherry tree. My father never taught us better, and my mother– she was so deep in worry, keeping the world turning like the stream under a great millstone...

Here is my 'Simple Story' retelling of a folktale. You can also read about my process, including making a list of Plot Points for oral storytelling, looking for symbolism or links to other stories, and considering what, if anything, I'd like to change. A boy played so many tricks on his sister that she grew to fear nothing, always guessing any loud noise or spooky figure or bump in the night was his doing. Their family lived near the church yard, and often spread their washin

I shared songs, poems, and a story at this year's North Shore Readers & Writers Festival, put on by the Grand Marais Art Colony. It's...

Persephone isn't cursed to return to the underworld...

I walked down a favorite forest road and collected cans and shotgun shells on my way back, and I thought of the story of Mother Holle. In the realm of Mother Holle, apple trees cry out to the visitor, "shake us, shake us, we are all of us ripe!" And loaves browning in the oven shout, "take us out, take us out, or we shall be burnt!" So we shake the tree and the apples fall and the branches spring back up. We set the hot loaves aside to cool and the smell of fresh bread wafts