IN OUR OWN BACKYARD

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In Our Own Backyard…Is it real – or make believe?

In Our Own Backyard…Is it real – or make believe? They say that playing make believe is one of those rites of passage in growing up – though some of us never quite get there.

By Wendy Johnson , February 22, 2013

In Our Own Backyard…Flying in the teeth of the gale

The gently whirling snowflakes of a few moments before turned into Ninja death stars that stung our eyes and bit into our skin, propelled by the velocity of the raging wind.

By Wendy Johnson , February 15, 2013

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In Our Own Backyard…. ‘I am woman, hear me roar!’

I’ve always considered myself something of a liberated woman. After all, I grew up in the Sixties and Seventies, during the days of the women’s lib movement, Gloria Steinem and bra burning (don’t worry, Mom – I’m not that liberated!).

By Wendy Johnson , February 08, 2013

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In Our Own Backyard….Winter weather leaves us high and dry

In Our Own Backyard….Winter weather leaves us high and dry The ultimate blow came when my husband and I arrived home last Friday after five days out of town and discovered we didn’t have any water in our house.

By Wendy Johnson , February 01, 2013

In Our Own Backyard…Memories are made of this

By Wendy Johnson , January 28, 2013

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In Our Own Backyard…Agreeing to disagree

In Our Own Backyard…Agreeing to disagree The silence was so intense you could have heard a whisker twitch. The big orange cat, Mufasa, held court over the new red faux-velvet Christmas bed as though he were a king on a throne.

By Wendy Johnson , January 18, 2013

In Our Own Backyard...He's the man who never returned

In Our Own Backyard...He's the man who never returned It started out as a weekend junket up the North Shore in search of snow. We had heard the areas around Silver Bay, Finland and parts north were getting snow, and my husband Ken and I wanted to get in a little cross country skiing.

By Wendy Johnson , January 11, 2013

In Our Own Backyard….Resolve to be kind

It was a couple of weeks before Christmas when I noticed something didn’t seem quite right. I, like most everyone else, was spending most of my spare time combing the malls and department stores to complete the last of my Christmas errands.

By Wendy Johnson , January 04, 2013

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In Our Own Backyard….Follow the light

In Our Own Backyard….Follow the light On the first few ski outings of the season, I always experience a little shakiness until I get my “ski legs” back under me. That’s what I was feeling that day as I plummeted down the first steep hill and hit a small branch lying just under the snow.

By Wendy Johnson , December 21, 2012

In Our Own Backyard…I’m dreaming of a purple Christmas

One evening last week, when things were a little slow and there was no football on TV, I somehow convinced my husband to watch a television show called, “Celebrity Holiday Homes.”

By Wendy Johnson , December 15, 2012

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In Our Own Backyard…Santa is missing!

In Our Own Backyard…Santa is missing! Without giving away any age-old secrets from the North Pole, and without violating any codes of silence that have existed from the beginning of time, suffice it to say just this: “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus!”

By Wendy Johnson , December 06, 2012

In Our Own Backyard….What’s on your gift list this year?

I know that Christmas isn’t supposed to be all about toys and gifts and conspicuous consumption, but face it – those are sometimes the things that make it most memorable, especially for children.

By Wendy Johnson , November 30, 2012

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In Our Own Backyard….You gotta have high hopes

In Our Own Backyard….You gotta have high hopes Determination will get you everywhere.

By Wendy Johnson , November 23, 2012

In Our Own Backyard…Cranberries, stuffing - and pasties?

In Our Own Backyard…Cranberries, stuffing - and pasties? Sometimes my husband calls them pasties (pay-sties) and sometimes he calls them pasties (paa-sties). But somehow, the word “pasties,” pronounced as it was meant to be pronounced when referring to the popular little meat pies, is never quite the first thing out of his mouth.

By Wendy Johnson , November 16, 2012

In Our Own Backyard...Shock and awe

The air was filled with tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. I found myself tiptoeing around on our hardwood floors, afraid that the sound of a good, solid footstep might ignite passions far beyond anything we were prepared to cope with. The two of us – Ken and I – were communicating at a near-whisper so we didn’t give away our strategical plan of attack prematurely. This was war.

By Wendy Johnson , November 05, 2012

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