Author Description

My story, The Peppermint Tree, really developed at an early age. My aunt owned a large colonial house about ten feet from the beach. There were lots of places to play hide and seek. I called myself Annie and my playmate next door I dubbed Roopie. Of course my beloved aunt was Aunt Cissy. The house had a widow's walk on the roof. From there we saw many imaginary tall ships sailing on to rainbow's end, with a fog shrouded lighthouse and a mysterious cove. I cried when the house was destroyed by the hurricane of 1938. Today I can't recognize it.