A Little About Me
I am an adventure seeking ponderer of the mysteries of the universe, writer of children's books (represented by Stephen Fraser of the Jennifer DeChiara Literary Agency), and lover of anything involving armor, archery, or swashbuckling.
Share the Joy of Reading with
Holy Schlamoly – honored that my post “2 A.M.” was
- NIGHTMARE ON UNTER DEN LINDEN – A Banned Books Week Tribute
- HEY, RAPUNZEL ~ SURF’S UP!
- KALAALLIT NUNAAT – Man In The Icicle
- THANK YOU, RICHARD PECK (April 5, 1934 – May 23, 2018)
- IN SEARCH OF A NEW ‘F’ WORD
- HOOD RIDING RED LITTLE – A Tale In Reverse
- AN AMUSING REALIZATION
- Check This Out: The Book Passage Children’s Writer’s Conference
Member Since 2007
© 2012 Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner
Punishment for ignoring said © is, at best, death by hanging from the tallest yardarm. Content may be shared for non-commercial use as long as credit is given to Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner and linked to http://donnaweidner.com All photo, art, and media content that is not my own are for representational + non-commercial purposes. I do my best to give credit where it is due.
PORTS OF CALL
Category Archives: EVENTS
It’s somehow fitting. The sweeping square is shrouded in silence, but for the dime-size drops of rain slapping the neatly laid cobbled stones under my feet. The typically bustling quad is empty too, except for the line of bicycles strung … Continue reading
One paper heart trimmed in frilly, white lace, One arrow, one promise of a sweet, warm embrace. Once it’s notched, drawn, and trained on a specific bullseye, Cupid first blows a kiss, and then lets it fly ~
It’s the question no one asked when they heard I’d be camping in the arctic in the summer of 2009. Last April, seven years later, the same topic lay fallow on the fringe of conversations concerning my dogsled trip in Ittoqqortoormiit, East Greenland. It was barely … Continue reading
One homemade heart trimmed in frilly, white lace, One arrow, one promise of a sweet, warm embrace… Once it’s notched, drawn, and trained on his chosen bullseye, Cupid first blows a kiss, and then lets it ~~~ fly ~~~
There’s something surreal about spotting a row of paw prints the size of cast-iron skillets stamped in the snow thirty feet from where you’ve been sleeping.