Janice Lindsay

Crows know

By Janice Lindsay, Contributing Writer I didn’t mind finding a hamburger roll in my white bird bath, or a banana slice, raisin bread, or chokecherry...
Janice Lindsay

We did it for Grandma

By Janice Lindsay, Contributing Writer The recipe for this meal begins “Dig a hole.”  Following a family tradition that began decades before I was born and...
Janice Lindsay reflects on the belief or disbelief in luck.

Spring cleaning and the dusty mind

By Janice Lindsay, Contributing Writer With good intentions and delusions about the extent of my ambition, I compile a list of household chores to complete...
Janice Lindsay

A guilty pleasure, but I don’t feel guilty

By Janice Lindsay, Contributing Writer When my mother gave me an age-softened novel called “The Woman-Haters,” I was not excited about reading it, being a...
Janice Lindsay

When walls talk

By Janice Lindsay, Contributing Writer I once had occasion to visit a doctor who was new to me and whose office I will never forget.  Doctor-visiting...
Janice Lindsay reflects on the belief or disbelief in luck.

Cold weather inspires invention

By Janice Lindsay, Contributing Writer Earmuffs. This month formally marks 145 years since the earmuff as we know it was invented. The story goes that 15-year-old...
Janice Lindsay

Pondering fast summer, slow winter

By Janice Lindsay, Contributing Writer Why does winter seem to pass sooooo sloooowwwwly while summer goesbysofast? From June through September is four months. From December through...
Janice Lindsay reflects on the belief or disbelief in luck.

It’s about time

By Janice Lindsay, Contributing Writer I suppose that most of us were happy to see the end of 2021 and hope that 2022 will be...
Janice Lindsay writes about her 30 years as a newspaper columnist.

Gifts that make us happy

By Janice Lindsay, Contributing Writer When I first had the means to acquire Christmas gifts for family and friends, I’d try to discern the heart’s...
Janice Lindsay

Keep pedaling

By Janice Lindsay, Contributing Writer The summer I was 7, I was obsessed. I desperately wanted – no, I desperately needed – a bike.  Not that...