Myrtle Rose Wiseman

Summertime: For Myrtle Rose Wiseman

It was about fifteen minutes past midnight when I crept, from my bed, down the back stairs in my great-grandmother's riverside country house. I knew they were cooking something; the sweet aroma had risen, from the kitchen, through the floorboards and found its way into my sleeping nostrils, waking me--making me crave to be a part of the fussing and giggling that too rose from the kitchen. The aroma had made my mouth water even before my...

I know her as a wonderful woman - through many conversations with my dear friend Peggy, her daughter.
My sincere condolences to her loving family.
Charlotte and John Houston