“Sach’s……The Most Haunted Covered Bridge”

We drove out to Sach’s Bridge last night…..A ways outside of Gettysburg, hard to find if you don’t know where you’re going…..stands the covered bridge thought by many “ghost enthusiasts” to be one of the most haunted sites on hallowed ground.

I have gotten many orbs at Sach’s….had some strange encounters with more people than ghosts…….including one reenactor on Halloween night……

But now, the atmosphere has changed……..The large mass of trees behind Sach’s has all been chopped down.  Spotlights brighten the interior and exterior of the bridge, severely hindering the spooky atmosphere that once befell her beams.

It was a full moon last night, but very hazy.   I snapped a few photos, caught some interesting orbs or moisture spheres (depending on which side of the ghost hunting table you sit)……. but left feeling sad that one of the most atmospheric places around Gettysburg has forever been changed………..orbs 5

orbs and the moon 1orbs 6orbs 3orbs and the moon 1orbs 2orbs 4

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“An Anniversary Gift from My Ghost”


Today is my wedding anniversary.    I guess my resident soldier ghost……yes, there is a Confederate ghost who wanders about the farmhouse…..wanted to acknowledge the day.

I wrote about him in a previous blog and reveal how he came to let me know his horse was buried in my field……..

Two things were disturbed at the farmhouse when I walked inside……sometimes, statues are turned, sometimes heavy salt bags are moved…sometimes clocks stop and start working again with precisely the right time.

Today…….two things awaited me on the floor…….

A Confederate kepi hat and my black glitter roses……..

On my wall, hang a Union and a Confederate kepi…….just the Confederate one was moved……

Why the black roses?…….Well, maybe my spirit mourns not sharing all his wedding anniversaries with the southern belle who waited back home……….

What do you think?kepi and roses

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“Saint Joseph”

March 17th may be the sacred day for Irish to honor St. Patrick, but March 19th, for those of us of Italian descent, today is the day set aside to honor the man who raised Jesus as his son……St. Joseph. He is our earthly Holy Father; a man to be honored.
In large Italian neighborhoods, from New York to New Orleans…..the customs, the foods, the building of altars is done to honor and celebrate this day.  Delicious St. Joseph pastries beckon from Italian bakery shelves.
Seasoned bread crumbs, meant to look like sawdust, adorn the pasta as homage to this carpenter, chosen by God, to raise his son.
Homeowners selling their homes ask St. Joseph for intervention; you might have seen little statues targeted to those making real estate transactions. I have known several Realtors who will give a St. Joseph statue to clients…..to bury in their yards.
Some believe this custom began with German carpenters who placed a small statue of St. Joseph in the foundation of homes they built while reciting a prayer to the Saint.
Others believe the significance traces back to a place in Montreal…….a beautiful shrine to St. Joseph I have had the privilege to visit.
The story is that Brother Andre Bessette wanted to purchase some land for a shrine to the Saint, and began burying small medals of his image on property outside of Montreal in the late 1800’s when the owner refused to sell. In 1896, the owner relented, and the site of the beautiful St. Joseph’s Shrine was obtained. It is a magnificent place where the reverent climb, sometimes on their knees, daunting steps to pray to this Saint.
The legend has progressed to present day as homeowners bury statues of St. Joseph in their yards to facilitate the sale of homes. Upon sale of the house, the owners bring them to their new home out of respect, or give them to the new buyers to bless the home.
Others leave him buried; but some believe this will cause the home to change ownership soon again……and again……..if St. Joseph is not retrieved from the soil.
St. Joseph is given honor in the Catholic faith as the Saint of peaceful death. This holds unique significance to me……DSC_6422
Her final day on earth, my mother purchased a statue of St. Joseph, which we were going to pick up the following day. She never got to hold the statue; that evening, she passed away during sleep. Perhaps she got to meet St. Joseph upon entrance to a heavenly place…..I never picked up the Statue, never gazed upon his face, but I have envisioned him more times than if he had come to my home decades ago…..
There is Blessed St. Joseph’s bread at the altars of Roman Catholic Churches in Italian neighborhoods, and bakeries display many sweets especially for his day. Visit an Italian neighborhood, take home something wonderful to honor St. Joseph today.
And if you are selling your home, pick up a tiny statue, bury him in your yard….then lift him from the ground so owner and buyer can be at rest and peace.
For St. Joseph brings peace to those who honor him.
Yes March 19th, is a very special Father’s Day; and St. Joseph will always be a special Saint because he guided my mom to meet his Son.

For other memories of growing up an Italian Jersey girl…..visit https://www.amazon.com/Waiting-Next-Village-Attack-Reminisces/dp/0997475242/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1552998512&sr=8-1-spellPageflex Persona [document: PRS0000039_00067]



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“Come Visit Eire with Me”


Come visit the Emerald Isle………..



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“The Genius and Quirks of Einstein”

Today, 1879,  the birth of a genius……..two tiny feet emerged sans socks into this world and chose to remain that way………

Albert Einstein never wore socks; he refused to wear them.
Genius often holds hands with eccentricities and quirks.
This was Einstein’s…….

I walked down Nassau Street, Princeton, NJ,  many, many times.   My feet probably had socks on them, unless it was in the midst of a summer scorcher.  I lived close by to the University many years ago.   Long ago, I was called to be interviewed for a position there, I decided against it, and often wonder the direction of my life had I chosen otherwise…….
Princeton was Einstein’s sockless stomping ground.
He walked down Nassau Street from Princeton University and left quite a mark in those steps……
Einstein was a very late talker…so much so, that his parents thought him retarded…..
No worries there.
*One evening, at the dinner table, little Albert spoke up and said, “this soup is too hot.”
When asked why he hadn’t spoken earlier, he said…..
Before now, “everything has been in order.”……..
*anecdote, told by Otto Neugebauer, a historian of science
When Einstein was five years old, he became ill and restricted to bed. To amuse his son, Einstein’s father gave him a compass. This little compass set off this scientist’s direction in life……
So fascinated by a needle always pointing north, Einstein made his life purpose seeking to understand what energy forces affect our lives and the Universe.
It is a good thing for us his compass pointed to America on a day in 1933…..the day an immigrant set the above mentioned feet on shore.

Einstein fascinates me, his quotes, the way he had such a grasp on time and dimensions…..
Yes, his sockless feet would be welcome to rest under my dining table as guest anytime……alongside Mr. Lincoln.
I don’t think I could eat a mouthful at that dinner party……..
I will have a bowl of fruit on the table……….
In the words of this genius……..
“A table, a chair, a bowl of fruit and a violin; what else does a man need to be happy?”
~~~~~Albert Einstein 

Not much, I’d say, Mr. Einstein……

We each forge our paths in time……in socks or otherwise……….



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“Just a little Bunny Statue”

I ordered a pretty little bunny statue from a catalog; she arrived today.   She was just as pretty as expected, but around her neck, hung an ominous tag.

WARNING: Cancer and Reproductive Harm  

My bunny?   Harm?    There is now a CA law that requires any questionable material be labeled as such….

Is is overkill……is it the canary in the coal mine, warning us ignorant consumers……..

I am an artist……now a lot of my supplies carry this warning…….Painting a picture should be a serene pastime, not a harbinger of canaries breathing that coal dust………

Sometimes, I wish for simpler times……….when paints were made of crushed beetles whose pigments lasted forever, when toys were made of wood, when statues were whittled from trees…….

But my childhood wasn’t so simple.   I grew up in one of the most toxic areas of the country, with Agent Orange being our area’s commodity, as well as those radium glowing watch dials.    Who gave our parents warning tags when they mortgaged their pretty suburban homes?

My little bunny looks lovely, I took the tag off and threw it away……..I choose to live dangerously this Easter……..Maybe I will paint a bunny statue sitting on my table…….bunny





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“Remembering a Friend”

Tomorrow will be my friend, JBee’s birthday.   Her name is Janet, but I called her JBee because she was just learning to raise bees…   Those who read “The Returning Ones,” know a little about her.   JBee is my dear friend; she no longer lives mortally, but she lives on in the Spirit Realm.   I was in Ireland when she crossed, but continents have no meaning once you cross the lines of time and realms; she came to say good bye to me.
I miss her; she still comes around and visits, especially when I need a friend, but I miss her.   I miss spending days with her, laughing with her. and having her in this world as my friend.

We crammed a lifetime of friendship into a short space of “time”……..Because we were friends through time……I am sure of that.   This wasn’t the first life we lived and perhaps it won’t be the last………JBee and I didn’t have to become friends, we already and always were…..

Happy Birthday JBee, in a time where hours and days and numbers of the month don’t mean much.  We humans think by changing the hands of a clock we can control time.  Those things matter only to mortals left behind;  but maybe birthdays are still special.  Heck, I am sure you will be sharing a piece of birthday cake with Jane Austen, with Ranger by your side,  while John Denver plays a birthday song on his fiddle for you…..But remember, I will be thinking of you as well, for the rest of my mortal time.   I would have loved to taste that first hive’s honey…….honey and bees are always bittersweet for me now…….lavender bees

Love and Light,


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