Author Archives: Patti M. Walsh

Solstice. Did you just think, Stonehenge? Well, you’re not alone. And you’re not wrong. Most people associate the summer solstice with the ring of vertical sarsen stones on Salisbury Plain in the south of England. But the winter solstice belongs … Continue reading →

When I first read about roads diverging in woods, I intuitively craved ones less traveled by. After all, by the time I read Robert Frost’s poem in high school in Connecticut, I had already hit my first roadblock. I had … Continue reading →

Prompt: A prank gone wrong Three stacks of Christmas cards—religious, scenic, and cute—claimed one half of our mahogany dining room table; a dog-eared address book, two sets of stamps (religious and secular), and multi-colored pens weighed down the other. In … Continue reading →

My husband and I have been following a South African musician lately. Goes by the name of The Kiffness. Our fascination started with a clever mix of cat vocalizations with strings, horns, keyboards, and percussion called Lonely Cat.  We scrolled … Continue reading →

Life courses through my veins, keen with the electricity of a lightning storm’s awe. Hot, slow, and hidden, bile surges like lava oozing from Kilauea. Its destructive path is certain yet unknown. I rage. I am lied to. Again. A … Continue reading →

Changing the order of sentences in a paragraph or short essay may change the perspective of both the author and the reader. In the following versions of the same scenario, I changed perspective and focus by changing the order of … Continue reading →

Below is a press release from the Gulf Coast Writers Association. An active-voice rewrite follows. FORT MYERS, FL., March 27, 2023–A writing contest open to the general public including adults and youth was announced today by the Gulf Coast Writers … Continue reading →

To say I wasn’t there would be misleading. Because I was. They had looked for me everywhere. At the top of the mountain, whispering into the clouds. At its base, entangled with brambles. In the clear mountain spring, where the … Continue reading →

A cat may have nine lives, but I don’t. Especially crossing where North West Street intersects with East South Avenue. I had arrived in plenty of time for my 10 a.m. interview for an actuarial position with Chancey Peeples in … Continue reading →

Although I had heard about Ferdy since Tony told me about him, I wasn’t prepared to meet the husky kid with thick dark curls and pale, lizard-like skin riding toward me. Nobody in Tory Island had a Stingray Chopper bicycle … Continue reading →

When it came to women, Kenny ran the table. That’s the term his father used to describe how the cards fell during a good night of poker. Or maybe it was pool. It didn’t matter—his father spent way too much … Continue reading →

Crystalline blue skies rimmed with neon tangerine stretched across the Gulf of Mexico as my husband and I soaked in a late September sunset. “Look.” Bob waved his right hand from west to east and back again, emphasizing the vast … Continue reading →

If a blind date had eyes, it might see stuff that could not, or should not, be seen. Stuff that gets crammed into a life lived to its fullest. Stuff that seeps into your soul through lips, ears, nose, and … Continue reading →

Come on. Admit it. You’ve stolen something, probably after a few beers or on a dare. Or both. You justified it as a souvenir. It sits in the back of a closet or at the bottom of a drawer wrapped … Continue reading →

“Fill ’er up,” I told the gas station attendant back in 1970. For three single dollar bills, I bought two hundred miles and a few hours of freedom. Maybe a foray from campus in western Connecticut to New York City … Continue reading →

My grandmother never gave me anything she didn’t make. That sounds quaint and sentimental, but she obsessively practiced handcraftery and pawned off her fetishes as gifts. Like when she went to Hawaii, she didn’t bring me a souvenir T-shirt. No. … Continue reading →

From where George sat, the woman who pulled into the No Parking Zone appeared to be around 40, though, given the lack of gray hair, she was probably younger. Then he saw the car seat in the back. Definitely younger. … Continue reading →

Snuggled into a blanket and practicing endearing names like Baby and Precious, Ronnie and I were falling in love, under the boardwalk, down by the sea. Happy sounds, though, were disrupted by the shuffling of people walking above. Running, actually. … Continue reading →

You never know the last time you did something until you look back. Like the last time you went skiing. Or saw your grandmother. Or pinned sheets to a clothesline. The last time I did that I was living in … Continue reading →

Because it was a day made for a drive, that’s exactly what Sunna and Gunnar did. With unflappable spirits of adventure, they cut a handsome profile. Nearly identical with fair and muscular features, and clad in matching black athletic gear, … Continue reading →

Somewhere on Generals Highway, above the breath-defying switchbacks that rise more than 2,000 feet into Sequoia National Park from Hospital Rock, and beyond the intersection of Big Trees Trail and Little Deer Creek, I was overwhelmed by the massive dignity … Continue reading →

With her husband out of town, one of my neighbors organized a kaffeeklatsch for the ladies. Coffee and gossip. After all, that’s what klatsch means, and what goes better with coffee? Okay, maybe strudel. But idle chitchat is what differentiates … Continue reading →

Although the weather forecast called for a 50-percent chance of rain, I bet on the sunny side and met my friend Andie after work to walk the trendy neighborhoods along the Metro stops on the Virginia side of Washington, D.C. … Continue reading →

By the time spring arrived, I had settled into the old house that Aunt Anam and Uncle Nog were converting into a bed and breakfast. They named it Companion Moon. It’s where Nog and Mom—her name was Maura—spent their summers … Continue reading →

Bucket list. Silly term for the ideals, aspirations, and experiences that have shaped our lives. You know, things to do before we kick the bucket. You can read about them, gaze with curiosity into the vast potential of “things to … Continue reading →

“There’s a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” — Leonard Cohen Before there was light, before there was firmament or perdition, and even before there were creatures great and small, there was sound—an eternal vibration from which … Continue reading →

From where George sat, the woman in the car was somewhere around 40, though given the hard lines defining her face and the lack of gray hair, she was probably younger. Then he saw the car seat in the back. … Continue reading →

Fortyish and slightly stooped, Brownie steadied his box camera. The clip-on viewfinder was a vast improvement over the V-shaped sighting lines on the original Kodak he had bought the year before, in 1900, for a dollar. He looked at the … Continue reading →

Tucked within the curtains of twilight and the penumbra of sparkly Christmas decor, I couldn’t see the neighbor who greeted me last night. Yet I knew she was there—she beckoned me by name. Her ethereal voice tinkled with the tiny … Continue reading →

(I wrote on the prompt for the Florida Weekly–the picture of the cypress swamp) “Damn.” Penny pounded the steering wheel of her swamp buggy, disgusted that the 40-inch-diameter balloon tires were mired in muck. After reliably churning the two-ton, converted … Continue reading →

(I submitted this to The Florida Weekly for the Writing Challenge Round 3. The prompt was an empty jewelry box.) They would leave together—as soon as Stannum could secure the jewels. That had been their plan. That had been his … Continue reading →

Blame it on dense foliage, marijuana, or Hobomok’s reputation. But what began as a short afternoon hike in October 1982 at Sleeping Giant State Park deteriorated into a stumbling surrender between the giant’s knees. Hobomok is what the Quinnipiak people … Continue reading →

I reacted to my friend’s news that the destructive forces of Hurricane Ida had claimed his camp on the Tangipahoa River with a silent gasp, a jolt in the gut, and stinging behind my eyes. George called the camp Riverun, … Continue reading →

“Do you go to church?” Nina asked. My friend was looking for someone to accompany her to a Sunday service.  “No,” I replied. “But I do go to churches.” There’s a difference, you know. I love everything about houses of … Continue reading →

I used this Florida Weekly Challenge prompt. “Karma’s a bitch, my friend.” Larry assessed his situation by flexing his biceps and cracking his knuckles.  Although the former quarterback had worked both sides of that causal equation, he calculated that in … Continue reading →

What do you do when you arrive at an intersection where caution and adventure hold equal sway? Choose the unknown—especially if it comes with a car and a cup of coffee. Say Yes. I first learned that lesson when I … Continue reading →

Rip. That’s me tearing a map of Louisiana diagonally from the northwest Texas border to Grand Isle. The jagged line that runs through the state’s best fishing and hunting haunts is Highway 1. Splash. We hooked into the color, culture, … Continue reading →

(I chose as a prompt the Florida Weekly challenge of a young girl surrounded by two sets of twins. Since I will enter my story in the contest, I welcome constructive criticism.) Born without a double in a family of … Continue reading →

Doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results defines neither insanity nor genius. It’s the process that curses writers to perpetually search for the right words to convey an idea, describe a sunset, or tell a story. Sometimes inspiration … Continue reading →

Just as my grandparents had ruined my mother’s last year in high school, my mother ruined mine. And now she was ruining my adult life. “Don’t you see the irony of this?” I was indignant as my mother got all … Continue reading →

Knee deep in a few hundred square feet of cucumbers and sweltering in New England’s August heat, I had one thought. Pickles. And one question for my friend and fellow gardener. “Annie, can you can?” “I can!” She flounced her … Continue reading →

Tap tap creeaakkkkk. I jumped. We all looked up, pausing from the task at hand. We were painting a room in a creepy old house on Tap Tap Creek. It was my uncle’s family homestead.  He and my aunt were … Continue reading →

Forty-ish and slightly stooped, Brownie steadied his box camera on the platform he built for it and adjusted the clip-on reflecting finder. He tapped the new accessory. It was a vast improvement over the V-shaped sighting lines on the original … Continue reading →

Shhh. There’s a song in my head that I can’t quite hear. It goes dah dah dah dah dah dah dah dah dah dah dah. Like water drops shooting out of a fountain. Maybe I think it sounds like water … Continue reading →

During a recent Rummikub party, I casually asked a neighbor where she was from. “A small town in western Connecticut,” Jane said offhandedly, as she picked up tiles and arranged them in her rack. “On the northern end of Lake … Continue reading →

The Tangipahoa Swamp holds too many mysteries to count—and probably as many bodies. Tangipahoa means cornstalk people to the Choctaws. Their corncob bodies were the first to be laid to rest here, thousands of years ago. Their existence is documented … Continue reading →

In early 2011, my husband, Bob, and I coursed through the galleries of the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts (VMFA) to absorb Pablo Picasso’s glorious complexities. The VMFA had scrambled to host the only East Coast stop on a seven-city … Continue reading →

Huddled together in a neglected bedroom, we were seven- and eight-year-old cousins on a sleepover. In the attic. Not downstairs in the predictable safety of my bedroom, but somewhere we’d never slept before. Tantalized by adventure, we giggled. Early summer … Continue reading →

Huddled together in a neglected bedroom, we were eight-year olds on a sleepover. In the attic, not a bedroom downstairs. The mattress sagged, dust flittered in the moonlight like bugs, and the redolence of cigarette-infused mustiness clung to everything. Our … Continue reading →

(I’m entering this in a contest, so please, critique away!) Mama left no footprints when she alighted last night. Summoned by loons, fireflies bright, carried by moon beams’ sterling heights— Mama left no footprints when she slipped in last night. … Continue reading →

“Damn!” Crouched over rocks in the Sonoran Desert somewhere outside Tucson, I smacked my calf in response to a painful prick. Or maybe it was a bite. It was definitely an attack. “What the…” Swatting away the offender, I swore … Continue reading →

(Inspired by “Longing in Their Hearts,” Bonnie Raitt, 1994) Framed by high desert red spires, Paul was on bended knee, a diamond in his right hand, and my right in his left. Averting the question that was about to pop … Continue reading →

Coming home from work one evening late last winter, I noticed my neighbor, a kindly elder, sitting on his porch. We waved as usual. “Cathie?” I was surprised that he called me by name. Although I had introduced myself when … Continue reading →

I would give anything to see Mom again. I was five when she died. Dad remarried and we moved. That meant a new school, which I hated. My friends were misfits who vaped and skipped class. So I did, too. … Continue reading →

DREAM (circa 1975): I pick up a hitchhiker while driving to visit my boyfriend. When I get to his cabin in the woods, a mutual friend greets me with a large tray of exotic fruits. She tells me that I … Continue reading →

Six thousand miles, five planned stopovers, four weeks, three girls, two bags apiece, and one argument. It was August 1973 when Ann, Mary, and I packed Ann’s four-speed Corolla with bathing suits, jackets, sandals, sneakers, tee shirts, and formal attire … Continue reading →

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, Brookfield Center’s staid community doesn’t suffer wanton comportment. Sniff. As a designated site on the National Register of Historic Places, the principled town in western Connecticut boasts a … Continue reading →

Ellen. That’s what I call the woman I don’t know. Not that she looks like any Ellen I do know But she looks like one I should know. That’s the problem. I am cursed with uncanny visual memory, the polar … Continue reading →

Prompted by Uncle Tom’s Cabin, by Harriet Beecher Stowe, p. 22, sentence 13:  “All this may happen to him yet.” “All this may happen to him—yet,” the priestess whispered, her voice as thick as the patchouli-infused room in which I … Continue reading →

What is it that dogs dream? Angus seemed to be suspended in a silver net slung between silent moon shadows and daring exploits. Tired but sleepless, I knew what would I dream. When Momma died, Dad said she had gone … Continue reading →

It’s no wonder I’ve always had at least one friend sharing my name—Patricia was the third most popular female name the year I was born. It means noble, as does Pat, Patty, Patti, Patsy, Tricia, and Trish. It became necessary … Continue reading →

Greetings from Pinecliffe, where every day is a good hair day, or at least a good hair-raising day. I dally on the deck, ozone high, as I have countless times overlooking the quiet dell that separates me from the fir-infested … Continue reading →

Before I begin this story, I must tell you the end. Because that’s really the beginning. Because it’s a love story. Charles died. Ann was at his side, as she had been for nearly 50 years. Although he was nearly … Continue reading →

When the temps plunged last week, a few of us girls on Fontanella Drive decided we needed a little Christmas. Having landed in the hinterlands of Prato seeking year-round warmth, we all knew real cold—Laurie’s from Michigan; Carol’s a native … Continue reading →

When an old friend called the other day, we picked up where we had left off a few months ago. Old friends are like that. For starters, Peggy and her husband renovated a beach house last year while my husband … Continue reading →

When an intimate group of friends gathered at Margot’s favorite restaurant to celebrate her 90th birthday, I raised a glass. “When I grow up,” I toasted, “I want to be Margot.” “You can’t,” she wryly responded. Already in my sixties, … Continue reading →

“Well, lookie here!” Olivia squealed when she discovered the holiday boxes tucked into Helen’s guestroom closet. On a fog-drenched October day, we were cleaning out my younger sister’s townhouse after her sudden death. Into three piles we had been divvying … Continue reading →

Pausing to study herself in the mirror, Paula smoothed the black T-shirt dress that hugged her middle-aged breasts and skimmed her slender hips. She knew dammed well that Alan was dead and cringed at having to endure a memorial on … Continue reading →