Author: James Thebarge

In the heart of New England, where the maples and oaks stand tall, a magical transformation unfolds each year. As summer’s warmth wanes, the forest prepares for its grand performance—the symphony of fall. In late September, the trees gather in a clandestine assembly. Their chlorophyll robes fade, revealing hidden hues—the yellows of sun-kissed buttercups, the… Continue reading The golden symphony of Autumn

In the heart of our cities and towns, amidst the symphony of life, there lies a silent plea. At the end of on and off ramps, where the concrete meets the sky, at intersections, we see them, souls holding signs that read, “Will work for food .” “Money, any amount will help”. These signs, weathered… Continue reading A sign of our times

Gently nestled among the warm embrace of autumn’s golden bounty, Quinn, a serene golden retriever lies, crowned in the splendor of falling leaves. The air is crisp, almost whispering with the rustle of the foliage that dances around him. Imagine, if you will, that this is not just any ordinary place, but a magical realm… Continue reading Autumn

In a grand forest where the whispers of nature compose a gentle lullaby, there resides a family of leaves on the great, sturdy branches of an ancient Maple tree named Eldergreen. Nestled in the embrace of their tree mother, each leaf blossoms in the tender warmth of spring, unfurling with vibrant enthusiasm to greet the… Continue reading The life of a leaf

At 5:01 this morning the snow was starting to softly cover the grassy surfaces. I was wishing that Abby would stay in bed longer however that hasn’t happened since the day we greeted her into our home. Half asleep, I negotiated the broken sidewalks, garbage, and recycling containers that lined the streets around our neighborhood.… Continue reading A true story

Her name was Marge, she was a resident of the long-term nursing home. Her days blended into one another like watercolors on a forgotten canvas. Marge had been there for years, her voice silenced by the weight of her memories she carried. The other residents whispered about her, Marge was the mysterious woman who never… Continue reading Rusty’s Whisper

The evening sky gently squeezed the remaining light from the day. It was dark before 6 PM… The see-saw like temperatures landed on Winter and the restless wind rustled the remaining leaves from their hiding places. And the rattling storm windows in this 100-year-old house were again familiar. The bitter cold, gusting winds, and early… Continue reading A true story

Beneath the snow-draped serenity of the cemetery, the whispers of the departed carried a gentle undertone of faith a spirituality that transcended the earth’s chill. These spirits, now part of something far greater than themselves, found solace in the teachings of their faith, drawing strength from a promised eternity with the divine. Each voice, gentle… Continue reading Winters view

True storyAbby’s cold wet nose pressed against my forehead pushing the back of my head deeper into the pillow. My half-closed eyes stared at the clock until I could make out the time. It was 4:45 A.M. Time to get up as there was no amount of belly rubs or forehead kisses that would pacify… Continue reading 40 Days and Nights