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Articles written by Carrie Classon

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The Postscript:Mouse wars

My husband, Peter, is now at war with the mice. The mice (possibly with the assistance of a rat or two) have eaten the electrical wiring in our car, causing extensive damage. The coating on the wires...

 

The Postscript: Being Blue

Blue had been through a rough patch. He was adopted from the shelter and then returned for unspecified reasons. That’s when Bill met him. Blue is an Italian mastiff — which means he is massive,...

 

The Postscript: Gladiolas

Yesterday, I bought gladiolas. They are nearly three feet tall and bright fuchsia. It is safe to say they are the most exciting thing to appear at my desk in ages. When I walked in the front door, my...

 

The Postscript: The two women told me about the bear when I was on my hike

They were on trail bikes and saw the bear in the direction I was headed. “It was scary!” one of the women said. We were all a little nervous. There had been a bear attack just a few weeks earlier...

 

The Postscript: Reading to Lori

I’ve been reading to Lori. Lori is my husband, Peter’s, older sister. She has cancer and has been battling it for a while now. She uses oxygen to help out and catching this virus would be terrible...

 

The Postscript: More dog stories

It seems I have acquired a reputation. I have been handing out dog treats for three months. Every day, I take the same trail and every day, I meet many of the same customers. Dogs have an amazing...

 

The Postscript: Summer storm

I was headed out for my daily hike. There was thunder in the distance. “It’s getting lighter,” my husband, Peter, said. “I don’t think we’re going to get any rain.” The air smelled like...

 

The Postscript: The blue tarp

I noticed my wrists were sticking to my desk. This was a gradual awareness. I spend almost all day at my desk and I don't know precisely when it started, but I finally looked down because my wrists...

 

The Postscript: Hummingbird curfew

My husband, Peter, is fascinated by hummingbirds. This year has been a difficult year for hummingbird watching as there has been a lot of competition at the feeder. First, the ants wouldn't leave it...

 

The Postscript: Birthday blow-out

It’s my birthday this week. This is not normally cause for a big celebration, and this year it is less than usual. Still, unlike my husband, Peter, I actually do celebrate my birthday. I don’t...

 

The Postscript: New slippers

I’ve worn out a pair of slippers. To be fair, I wear slippers quite a bit under normal circumstances, but over the past four months my slipper use has exceeded previous records. I was reading the ne...

 
 By Carrie Classon    Opinion    July 8, 2020

The Postscript: Dog stories

My husband, Peter, and I miss having a dog. I see a lot of dogs on the trail during my daily hike, and so Peter (who is always full of good ideas — usually about things I should do) suggested I...

 
 By Carrie Classon    Opinion    July 1, 2020

The Poscript: The world of birds

The raven nest was the big news this spring. Our neighbor, Joe, who belongs to every social organization in town, found himself with very little to do. So, every afternoon, Joe parked himself in his...

 

The postscript - My neighbors the superheroes

I think my next-door neighbors might be superheroes. They both work with computers (at least that’s what they say) and then, every spare moment, they are off doing superhero-type things. My...

 

The Postscript: A little awkward

It’s harder to keep in touch with people these days. Things are opening up, but it’s going to be a while before we hop in a car and visit people the way we used to. I met the pastor of my church...

 
 By Carrie Classon    Opinion    June 3, 2020

The Postscript: The only dog in Minnesota

I want to make it clear that we are not adopting a dog. I won’t deny it is tempting. We decided not to get another dog because we travel. Dogs and airplane travel do not go well together. Now, howev...

 
 By Carrie Classon    Opinion    May 27, 2020

The Postscript: Biscuits and gravy

All of a sudden, there are painted rocks along my path. This has been going on for a while, I guess, but I never saw them in my neighborhood. Now, however, someone has more time on their hands, or a...

 
 By Carrie Classon    Opinion    May 20, 2020

The Postscript: Chatting with a tree

Every day I look down the trail in either direction, checking to see if anyone is coming. I’d just as soon no one knew I was talking to a tree. I take the same hike every day. There are a lot of...

 
 By Carrie Classon    Opinion    May 13, 2020

The Postscript: My signature look

We’re at the stage where everyone is complaining about their hair. I am not complaining. As I have frequently bragged, my husband, Peter, cuts my hair and this has continued while the beauty...

 
 By Carrie Classon    Opinion    May 6, 2020

The Postscript: Small containers

Every Mother’s Day, I have a terrible time finding a card that remotely reflects the relationship I have with my mother. My mom is in her 80s now, and we have always had a good relationship, free of...

 

The Postscript: "Raven Watch"

The ravens are back. Last year, they had a nest right on my hiking trail but I didn’t notice them making it. I didn’t notice when they started guarding it or when the female laid eggs. I didn’t...

 

The Postscript: A little stir-crazy

It’s safe to say everyone is getting a bit tired of it. My parents, both in their 80s, were going a little stir-crazy in Florida. They missed their house in the woods and so they filled the RV with...

 

The Postscript: Peppermint ice cream

“I love seeing all the people in the park,” my sister told me on the phone the other night. “I can tell who is together because they are walking in little clumps!” I love that idea: Little...

 

The Postscript: Daisy crosses the street

My desk faces the window and that is where I spend most of my time. I spend about as much time at my desk as I do in my bed which is, conveniently located about 30 feet away. It’s a pretty short...

 

The Postscript: Parked out back

Joe’s red truck is parked behind his house. It hasn’t moved in days. Joe gets in his red truck every morning and drives around. He’s a member of every fraternal organization, a regular at the br...

 

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