Ode to Elisabeth's Arctic Trip, July 2012 by Joyce Cass

Our esteemed colleague
   Is on the run.
She's off to the area of 24 hour sun.

Her suitcases are packed
   With plenty of gear.
Far too much to mention here.

There's wooly pants, socks,
   And winter underwear,
   Snow boots and mittens
   Even a snuggly cap for hair.

Maybe a camera
   And a tripod too,
   To capture the highlights
   Of the wondrous view.

We'll miss her for weeks
   Around our writing tables
   Without her lively spirit
   Supporting our paltry fables.

One North Pole excursion
   Not mentioned very much
   Is Santa Claus, elves, bells,
   Whistles and such.

Once aboard your cruise ship
   You might think it worth a look
   Aha! Could be a topic bound
   For your next exciting book!

Now the time is near
   Before you're gone from sight
   To tell you when you're home again,
   There will be amazing tales to write.

September Is . . . by Nikki King

September was a nostalgic time for me in Fargo, North Dakota, my birthplace. Of course, I remember the beauty of the trees with their leaves turning vibrant colors of scarlet, orange and golden yellow. They fluttered slightly on brittle branches and then fell lazily to the ground. I took great delight in piling up the leaves on our front lawn and then jumping in seat first, often taking my dog with me! The flowers were dying down or dead--only the chrysanthemums were in full bloom. There was a slight chill in the air, even if the day was warm--a harbinger of the blizzards to come. I miss the beauty and sadness of the fall, the season of my birth.

Winters Past by Bernice Schachter

Oh how I miss the Christmas past! Did you ever catch a snowflake on your eyelid and taste the coldness on your tongue? Our snow days in New Jersey were magical and wonderful when a carpet of white surrounded our home.

Oh how I miss the Christmas past! The smell of wet wool and the pot belly stove in the warming shack after ice skating all day. I miss the taste of chestnuts on an open fire warming frostbitten fingers and toes.

Now when I sing the ancient Yule time carols, another Christmas will pass with only my fond memories. So let us deck the halls with boughs of holly and when you don’t your gay apparel, may all our Christmases be bright.