Holly Cusumano

 April is the time of dogwood trees. Margaret and Mary Katherine Chapter One It was a cool, sunshiny day and the twins Margaret and Mary Katherine put on their springtime coats and hats to take a walk down Pennsylvania Avenue. The dogwood trees were still flowering, some pink and some white. Mary Katherine said, “I wonder why dogwood trees are called dogwood? What’s doggie about them?” Margaret answered, “I don’t know, but I see that the Kousa dogwood trees are just beginning to flower.” She smiled, “I spy something white with four petals!” Mary Katherine said, “Woof, woof!” The girls walked toward the new ice cream shop and Mary Katherine reached into her pocket. She found two coins and a bit of lint. She muttered, “Not enough to buy anything but let’s go in.” The shop was bright and clean. The fancy new wallpaper had wide green and white stripes with clusters of bright red cherries. A large glass jar with a lid sat on the high counter. It was filled with freshly made...

There is a willow tree in the March story card. John and Vivienne Chapter One The teacher asked John to show his classmates the model boat he had made. Over the weekend, with the help of his father, John built the tiny ship out of small pieces of wood and glued them together. He climbed up onto the school’s stage. The other kids sat on the floor. They were his audience. The teacher was smiling. John took a deep breath. He was feeling a little sweaty. He was nervous. John began by saying, “I love ships and boats of every kind. How do they float? Someday when I am grown up, I hope to sail my own ship.” He held up the model for everyone to see and moved quickly to get off the stage. Just then, a little boy raised his hand saying, “But exactly how did you do it?” John wasn’t sure what to say. Did this kid want to know everything about making it? Everyone was looking at him. It was very quiet. John scanned the children sitting on the floor. Then he spied his friend Vivienne ...

 H ere is the February Story Card featuring a Japanese Cedar tree. Franklin, Andrew, and Betty Lee Chapter One Franklin reached down and picked up a tiny pinecone from the snow-covered ground. It was still attached to a short, green branch. Andrew said, “Let’s collect them all into a pile.” Franklin laughed and said, “Yes, a big pile of teeny, tiny pinecones.” The children began their work. The Japanese Cedar tree stood taller than the house. Betty Lee said, “I can jump as high as this tree!” But when she tried, her boots stayed stuck in the snow. She stumbled and fell down. Her socks got wet right away. The boys held her hands and together they walked to the back door of the house. Andrew said, “You will feel better soon, little sister. The house is warm and dry.” They quickly took off their coats and boots, except for Betty Lee, whose boots were still outside in the snow. Mommy helped her to take off her coat because she was too young to do it herself. Franklin said, ...

This is the first post of a series of Story Cards that I will be creating for our three-year-old twin grandchildren. The stories will be written in two chapters and mailed a few weeks apart. I know that children enjoy stories featuring their own names, but I have decided to use given names selected from the family tree that I created for the twins when they were born. The stories will be "flash fiction," a storytelling genre in which the characters, storyline, and setting are captured in just a few words. They are very short stories. Given the economy of words, the stories will likely all begin in "medias res," that is, in the middle of the action. Each card will contain little inserts to be held while the stories are read to them and will feature a tree.  So, here is the January Story Card. Adrian and Russell Chapter One With the glow of the moon, the two boys saw the spiky seed pods strewn across the sidewalk. So many were on the ground! So many were still on ...

Several weeks ago, I went to Renningers Antique Extravaganza in Kutztown, Pennsylvania searching for vintage photographs. I already have a large collection, so I was looking to buy only what really struck me. Nothing did. But I came across these interesting advertising cardboard cutouts. At about eight inches tall, they look like someone has cut them out of a catalog's cover. On the reverse side of each one is the name of a department store and a year, for example, "Lord and Taylor 1960." The antiques vendor, who was selling lots of paper ephemera, had no idea where these fashionable ladies came from. At just one dollar each, I promptly scarfed up all 16 of them. I thought I'd try using one of these figures in a collage held together with clear encaustic wax. As an artist without formal training, I find the decision-making aspect of creating a new piece of art difficult. Just because I like the way something looks, doesn't make it the "correct...

When I was a kid growing up in Royersford, Pennsylvania in the late 50's and early 60's, we always had a large console stereo in our kitchen. As soon as our father left for work, our mom cranked it up. We danced and sang like wild maniacs. Mom had an interesting assortment of records, Jonnie Ray, Puccini operas, and jitter bug. We'd stack the records up randomly and take turns being "the contestant." You never knew what your song would be until it played. But the crazier we acted, the more the crowd roared. Rick was known for his silly costumes, (think pointy, white cotton brassieres on his head) and Kit for her exuberant bossa nova.  But the song that I can't get out of my head this week is Gene Pitney's "Town Without Pity." I've been hearing it day and night for the past few days. I remember mom standing for long periods of time at the kitchen door gazing longingly through the glass. It scared me to the core. She was no longer ...

Among my earliest recollections of childhood is seeing the golden glow that peeked from under the door of my brother’s bedroom. It was predawn and that glimmer was the only source of light.  From my bed I could hear him rustling around in there, zipping up the sleeping bag he slept in every night on top of his bedspread and quietly dressing. His fishing, or sometimes trapping, gear waited on the back porch, having been carefully packed up the night before.  I recall a palpable anticipation about these early morning rituals, frequent as they were. I think the sleepy house itself could feel the excitement. You wouldn't think that a little girl like me would be included in trips like these, but once a year or so my brother allowed me to tag along. Believe me, I was a burden. Eight years younger than Rick, I was more suited to hand washing doll clothes in a soapy basin on Sherry’s back porch than cooking a “sunny” with a stick down its throat on an open fire. But ...