children, writing

And then Grandma Sneezed!

A little Thanksgiving story for all of you! I’ll add illustrations a few at a time so keep coming back to read and giggle!

And Then Grandma Sneezed Written and Illustrated by Joleen Steel



Uncle Peter carried in the corn.

Aunt Sue made the mashed potatoes.

Cousin Ed cooked the squash.

Grandpa Joe carved the turkey.

Grandpa Carl spiraled  the ham.

Uncle John canned the cranberry sauce.

Auntie Kim baked the rolls.

Granny  Kate molded the jello.

Grandma Jean whipped up the  pumpkin pies.

Mom boiled the gravy.

Dad blessed  the food.


And then……..

Grandma Jean sneezed.

Ahchoo! Ahchoo!  Ahchoo!  AAAHHHHHHChooooooo!


Uncle Peter wore the corn.

Aunt Sue mashed the mashed potatoes.

Cousin Ed squished the squash.

Grandpa Joe tangled with  the turkey.

Grandpa Carl speared the ham.

Uncle John crashed on the cranberry sauce.

Auntie Kim rolled away with the rolls.

Granny Kate jiggled with the jello.

And  Grandma Jean….       Cleaned it all up.

children, writing

Cupcakes and Tea


Cupcakes & Tea

Everyone come to the willows.  Join me for cupcakes & tea. 

The table cloth will be neatly pressed and the silver will shine like a glittering sea.

Everyone come to the table and sit beside the stream. 

The flowers will be yellow and pink and the bowls full of sugar and cream. 

Everyone come to the party. Wear your hat and gloves. 

The cupcakes will be scrumptious and the sun will shine down from above. 

Everyone come and be welcome. Bring your dearest friends. 

The dishes will be darling and the tea pot steaming with flowery blends.

Everyone come to the meadow. We’ll dance upon the lawn. 

Our dresses will be fresh and clean and we’ll sing the merriest songs.

Everyone come and be still as the sun sets over the trees. 

The blankets and pillows will be soft and warm as the stars peek through the leaves. 

Yes, everyone come to the willows. Join me for cupcakes & tea. 

You will know that I’m your friend and you are loved by me.

-Joleen Steel 2018

children, writing

A Wonky Donky kinda Day!

Yes, I know there’s a real popular book called wonky donkey out there. I wrote this for my littles and have just read it to them for the giggles. I figure it’s one of those stories that’s just for us.

A Wonky Donky kinda Day:

Written & Illustrated by Joleen Steel


On Monday Muffin the donkey went out for a walk; nibbled some dandelions and fell off the dock. Clambering out she started to bray “Well, that’s a wonky donkey kinda day!”


On Tuesday Muffin had a package to deliver; trotted cross the bridge and tumbled into the river. Splashing out she began to bray, “Well, that’s a wonky donkey kinda day!” 


On Wednesday Muffin went for a jog; dashed over the meadow and slipped into the bog.Sloshing out she just had to bray, “Well, that’s a wonky donkey kinda day!”

The bog

On Thursday Muffin had a good shake; rolled down the hill and plopped into the lake. Scrambling out she let out a bray, “Well, that’s a wonky donkey kinda day!”


On Friday Muffin began to stray; tripped on a bush and toppled into the bay.  Swimming out she gave a loud bray, “Well, that’s a wonky donkey kinda day!”


On Saturday Muffin munched on a tree; rolled off the cliff and plunged into the seaSurfing out she yelled as she brayed, “Well, that’s a wonky donkey kinda day!”


On Sunday Muffin put on her spectacles; sat in a chair and looked out the windows. Sighing now she whinnied and brayed, “If I wear my glasses I’ll be okay,”


That afternoon Muffin went for a walk, Nibbled some dandelions and stood on the dock. She took the package she had to deliver; trotted cross the bridge and looked at the river, She went for a jog and inspected the bog, had a good shake and walked round the lake, Saw the bush and gazed at the bay, munched on a tree and took joy in the sea,


That’s when she heard all her friends holler. “Muffin come on down to the water!”

So Muffin lept right past the tree and somersaulted gracefully into the sea. 

Singing with joy she let out a bray, “This is the perfect donkey day.” 


Note: If you like this little story, I’ve got kaboodles more! Subscribe to keep receiving my stories! I’d love to know you are reading so drop me a hey there over on my Face Book or Pinterest page.


Hope is the thing with feathers

When I see a feather I always pick it up. Feather’s remind me of the promise in Psalm 91:4

“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”

This scripture and the poem, Hope is the thing with feathers, by Emily Dickinson, inspired the poem below.

Before you read stop and think about hope: What is it to you? Why is it so essential? Where does hope come from?


If hope is “a thing with feathers that perches in the soul,”

Its song must clear the cobwebbed hearts of those who need to


Don’t give in to hopelessness;

Despair will take its toll.

Sing clear, feathered one, for your message truly must be heard.

Hope is something lost and found; inspected and observed.

Can I see the day again?

Is hope a thing assured?

Look here, a flock of hope-filled friends perch near a quivering soul;

Singing through the soul’s black night with peace, the one

true goal.

Don’t give in to fear and shame;

Their grip is icy cold.

The weary soul lifts up its head and cocks a shining eye,

For hope has been there in its breast, and now begins to cry,

“Please retract pain’s iron claw;

Release my heart to fly.”

Winged friends, sing words of truth to their sorrowful dear one;

You’re not alone upon this path; God sent His only Son.

His sacrifice paid the price;

The victory is won.

Under the shadow of His wing, you’ll find your way back home.

He’ll hold you till the dark recedes and fear and shame have flown.

Hope is here within your grasp—

Just grab and take a hold.

Sing, feathered ones, louder now for the light is breaking through.

The wounded soul lifts up its head and cries, “What can I do?

Take my pain and weariness—

I give it all to you.”

Despair, along with fear and shame, no longer can remain;

Truth clearly chased them from the soul who’ll never be the same.

Hope is assured; trust in Him,

The Name above all names.

A wing unfurls, a chest lifts up, and little bird takes wing.

Radiant beams the messenger that causes souls to sing.

Hope in Him who gives the song,

Fly in the strength He brings.

Now friends and bird take to the air with wings outstretched in joy

The soul once sad calls out a song and friends shout in reply:

“He is our strength and our hope;

His faithfulness is sure.”

Wings and voices blend and rise to Him who will endure.

By: Joleen Steel