Boston, as my new country rips itself in two over slavery, is if not the place to be, at least an important hub.
What do I see? Cobblestone streets, some tall builidngs, sailing ships in the harbor
What do I hear? Irish brogues, songs and the squawk of sea birds
What do I smell? fish, smoke and the high smell of people who don’t get to wash often
What do I touch? sewing needles, fabric and schoolbooks, maybe an elevator lever
What do I taste? cabbage, potatoes and sometimes a pork hock in beans.
I am ten years old, what matters to me? Being outside, running, getting to ride a horse
Aw, and she’s off again. That Jane, just can’t keep her fingers off the keys.
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Published by Jane Carlile Baker, Author, Editor, Teaching Consultant
Jane has loved writing from the time she learned to hold a pencil. Her writing journey moved from that pencil to personal computers through the seventies, she edited for a hospital public relations department. The eighties found her owning a public relations business, publishing newspaper and magazine articles, and directing communications for a large church. In the nineties she published her first book and led critique groups and writers' workshops. In the twenty-first century she became a teaching consultant for the National Writing Project, published several more books, and began an editing business.
Jane also loves raising chickens, dogs and alpacas, gardening, oil painting, swimming and hanging out with her family.
View all posts by Jane Carlile Baker, Author, Editor, Teaching Consultant
