An empty garden pot. Imagine the possibilities. Today, I am getting the itch to fill my pots brimming full of flowers… Ah, the hope of Spring…
This is Really Bad
This is really bad, I know, maybe even crass. But I still have a Christmas wreath hanging on our backdoor. This proves in reality what a Christmas junkie am I! I always leave one wreath up through January, but this is the end of February. I am still enjoying its “Christmasy” beauty and sparkle. Like truth, Christmas must…
More than “Three Forks” to Celebrate
Friday evening, Wayne and I celebrated our pastor and his wife’s 50th wedding anniversary at Three Forks in Dallas. Although we had been there, it was a first for Syble and Olen. And we used more than “three forks” to celebrate. In fact, we used 12 forks altogether: four for salad, four for steak, potatoes, creamed corn, and…
haiku: words unsaid
“Shade and Darkness” by JMW Turner Pushed to the bottom those words unsaid black and blue bruised heart throbs and throbs.
Why I Love Billy
“But tonight, the lion of contentment has placed a warm heavy paw on my chest…” This is why I love Billy Collins…
haiku: your smile
Art by JMW Turner Your smile broke the dawn rose and gold shone on my face colors I still taste. Crystallized moment distantly your smile tingled on my fingertips.
Dawn… Each One Uncommon
In case you missed dawn this morning, this is what it looked like from my frontyard. Not knowing when dawn will come, I open every door. –Emily Dickinson
Repristinate
My good friend, Rick Kingham, coined a word “repristinate” that is in the dictionary now. It means to restore to the original state or condition. Being the word junkie that I am, I think it is really, really cool that Rick created a word, and Webster’s dictionary picked it up. Bravo, Rick! Well, here is a…
Slice of Life
Here’s a slice of life. I have been sitting by the fire all day in this big chair, reading. Pure luxury. Ahhh, a day just to read… and not to write… to think… and not to write…
From My Cold Window
Winter night alone… icy branches in the wind like cold empty arms. Winter night alone… blue snow under the street lamp blue flames in the hearth.
Bonnie Saul Wilks 