I grew up in a village called Rosston, and our house was literally a stone's throw from the Allegheny River. Probably one of the most flagrant tomboys in the county, my fondest memories have to do with my own small adventures. Skating on the creek as a child and hearing the ice crack underfoot, rowing my dad's rowboat through my grandmother's yard during a flood, having to flee the town in the dead of night when the river rose, or combing the wooded hills in search of anything daring and scary to ten year old eyes. That half-wild tomboy still lives, grown, with family and Shelties, and seek more...
