February 2024: Fiona Walker

“an accumulation of small shifts”

Jackie looked around despairingly at the remaining inventory. September already and she was left with an accumulation of small shifts. She desperately needed them to all sell so she could afford to restock for the new season. But fashion proved unpredictable and it was the larger sizes of the simple shaped shifts that had flown out the door.

She looked up in time to see Dorothy – a definite Size 20 – float gracefully by her shop window in a blue and green shift she’d bought early in the summer.

Where are all the small women, she pondered; didn’t they like the simple styling of shifts?

Fiona is a recovering workaholic who loves to twist the turn of a phrase into a pretzel. She is currently working on a survival guide for dementia caregivers. She lives in NW Montana with her husband, cat, and way too many ideas for future projects.

January 2024: Fiona Walker

“the smell of his leather mitten when he wiped his nose”

The leather mittens were tossed carelessly in a heap of diverse sizes, shapes & tonalities. 3 generations of his family shared a bond with that one brand. It’s timeless quality and workmanship ensured a consistent feel. He rummaged thru looking for a pair that fit. As he picked up the first one he knew instinctively it had been his grandfather’s. The badly worn & barely recognizable leather had the distinctive fragrance of his grandpa’s workshop. It was all there – diesel fumes, gasoline, sawdust, pine pitch, grease & even the faint scent of apple cider. That mitten had been wrapped gratefully around a steaming mug of hot cider at…

Fiona is a recovering workaholic currently writing a survival guide for dementia caregivers. She lives in NW Montana with her husband, cat, and way too many ideas for future projects.

December 2023: Janet Muirhead Hill

“I began to see out of the eyes of animals”

She walked with her husband through the lovely woods, a nice break from housework for a change. The peace was broken by the distress call of some animal. She hurried in search of the cries for help. But her husband, right behind her, pulled her away. No, it’s a skunk. You’ll get sprayed. No, she said, It needs help. Her elbow flew into the man’s face as she broke from his grip. On hands and knees she approached the beautiful creature, its leg held tightly in the teeth of a trap nearly twice its size. Soothingly she spoke to the animal, whose eyes met hers in a pleading cry. She promised not to hurt him, and reached slowly for the release. Sprung free, the skunk, eyes full of gratitude, put its paw and her hand, then turned and ran into the woods.

Hill writes from her rural Montana home which she shares with her husband, two cats, and two ponies. She writes for the joy of writing as she learns about life and herself through the characters in her novels and in the random poetry she occasionally pens. www.janetmuirheadhill.com

November 2023: Janet Muirhead Hill

“Pretty Good Odds for Living”

I’m totally and uncomfortably aware that my odds for living several more years outweigh those of people of all ages in some other parts of the world. If I were in Gaza, for example. I would be preparing to die. If I were in Syria, the same. How about an Argentine mother, fleeing north in an effort to save her babies from horrendous suffering and starvation? Every step of the journey is hazardous, and perhaps the most threatening is when almost there, at the border crossing into the United States with the opposite of a welcoming asylum? No here I am in the middle of a free country, living the dream, with no one bothering me, my husband or children. I’d be free if not for the compassion I feel for the earthquake victims, the victims of war, the downtrodden, starving, children around the world, some without even clean water to drink. I don’t feel free. I feel that if I can’t help, what is the use of my odds for living?

Hill writes from her rural Montana home which she shares with her husband, two cats, and two ponies. She writes for the joy of writing as she learns about life and herself through the characters in her novels and in the random poetry she occasionally pens. www.janetmuirheadhill.com

October 2023: Beth Bojarski

“I Am Made of Hope, and Rage”

Yesterday was my last day as a development professional – maybe forever – and at a social services agency I deeply appreciate. My last project was writing the annual appeal, which always gets me thinking about all sorts of things. Honestly, I’m always thinking about all sorts of things. But this time, the role and detriments of rage in inequity, specifically in the housing crisis, poverty in America, and racism.

No small thing, right?!?

I worked with folks who resonated with rage. Rage against the system. Rage against donors and supporters and volunteers. Rage, sometimes, against those stuck in the inequitable systems and against one another.

Rage inspires. Rage motivates. Rage gets shit done.

But rage also hurts, and I can’t get past that. Rage with hope, though? Different story.

Hope is faith in things unseen. Is that in the bible? I don’t even know (and I should). Hope is indescribable. It’s optimism, but not the sweet version. Maybe realistic optimism? Optimism with lots of fucking work ethic?

If rage can turn us against one another, even as we’re on the same team (see adrienne maree brown’s cancel culture work), hope (optimism + work ethic) alongside optimism leaves me feeling … hopeful!

Beth Bojarski lives in Rochester, NY with a bit of rage and an obnoxious amount of hope. www.greenbojo.com

September 2023: Heather Saint

“Our Secret Energy Impelled Her”

Sitting, watching her walk toward us, we waited. What was she going to do this time? So many times in the past she had broken the rules, shattered dreams, and yet we still allowed her to be. Just be. Was today the day we finally stood our ground and took back that which she had stolen? No, not stolen. We gave freely under the guise of “safety for the others”. Maybe today, together we can regain what we gave away. Maybe our combined energy and strength of purpose would finally unite us against her. Maybe today is the day. Will we stand or will we crumble and comply yet again?

Heather Saint is a world traveled native Montanan, settling into retirement in NW Montana

August 2023: Janet Muirhead Hill

“Since My Revolution on the Road“

Since my revolution on the road, my life has changed, but not in the way I expected. My victory was quick and decisive, with few casualties. One would think that would make me a hero. Instead, I am fleeing for my life, hiding when I can, but never knowing who to trust. There is enough money on my head that even a “friend” might be tempted to betray me. So, I’m on my own, hiding in forests and caves, dashing through waterways to throw off the scent of the hounds that are on my trail. And in the moments I stop for breath, I’m left to wonder. Was it worth it, which means, did I do anyone any good? Was I fighting for a lost cause that will never be found? The answer? If I live to find it, I will let you know.

Hill writes from her rural Montana home which she shares with her husband, two cats, and two ponies. She writes for the joy of writing as she learns about life and herself through the characters in her novels and in the random poetry she occasionally pens.

July 2023: Kim Pitts

“Mom is Pacing”

My Mom is pacing. Inside, a intiny voice says, “make it better” because I have been trying my whole life. That tiny voice also says, “you aren’t good enough : “ because I actually cannot do that. Then, a bigger voice, not quite as well used, but growing ever more recognizable says, “that’s not your job”. So I sit, thinking a part of me wants to make it better, a part of me wants to finally be able to acknowledge that it isn’t my job, and a new emerging patr of me struggles because it has to make a distinction between the two. Her sadness, I cannot make better. Her depression, I cannot make better. Her grief, I cannot make better. Not because I am unable, but because it was not my job. And to that tiny voice, I say, “I’m so sorry that you thought it ever was.”

Kim Pitts is a writer and compassionate humorist. Her unique and traumasaurus rex sized ability to turn awful situations into beautiful, hilarious stories of pure humanity can be found on Facebook and Instagram as My Life is The Pitts Family.

June 2023: Stacy Hodo

Ode to Blue Door Winery

Huge blue door
oh what a bore 
makes me want to snore 
who lives there? 
a big giant? 
I don’t care. 
maybe a king?
Who’s really quite something? 
or it’s a secret 
To another land 
far away oh how Grand 
Huge blue door 
maybe I adore 
if i just turn the knob 
And believe in such lore 
Huge blue door 
You lead me to more
I see the wine pour 
and fire roar

Stacy Hodo has lived in the mountains of San Diego most of her life.
She loves being a single mom, teacher, creative dreamer, and spiritual warrior.