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 a Child in Need
Holy Schlamoly – honored that my post “2 A.M.” was
- SERMERSSUAQ – An Earth Day Homage
- KALAALLIT NUNAAT – Looking For A Fix
- KALAALLIT NUNAAT – Taking Care Of Business
- VALENTINES DAY IS NOT JUST FOR LOVERS
- DID SOMEONE SAY CHOCOLATE?
- ODE TO RESILIENCE
- WOCKA – WOCKA! An Encounter of the Metaphorical Kind
- BEINN HIANT – My Everest
- A PRE-HALLOWEEN SCOTTISH TALE
- FOOD FOR ‘HERE AND NOW’ THOUGHT
Member Since 2007
Drop Anchor, Grab a Shovel, and Dig Through The Past
© Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner 2012-2017Punishment 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.
A FEW FELLOW SWASHBUCKLERS
Category Archives: VIEW FROM MY SOAP BOX
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 ~~~
Highland sheep dotted the roadside under the pre-dawn sky. The velvet canopy looked like flocks of faeries had tossed fistfuls of glitter at the new moon only to have it stashed inside the Big Dipper and then purposefully strewn across the Milky Way by … Continue reading
Ichiro snores. The fog horn blows. My feet are cold and the fragrance of lilies on the kitchen counter drifts into the living room where I stare at the precarious position of my teacup on the edge of the coffee table while pondering this run on sentence the … 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 ~~~
Once upon a time, not so very long ago, my children’s feet fit into the palm of their father’s hand – but only