Earlier this week I ate breakfast, sitting in a chair on the deck, wrapped in a fleece blanket. With a morning temp in the lower fifties, the conditions were not exactly perfect and I did not care. These beautiful days of early fall are too precious to waste. Three weeks ago, our temps still tried…
June’s magical fireflies blink “love me, love me.” Disappearing sparks. Late July’s crickets’ chorus a shimmery soundtrack for evenings on the porch. By the time I hear mosquitoes’ whining buzz, I’m in trouble and smack my neck. My hand comes back with blotched with blood. Maybe mine. Cicadas drone in August, their whining dirge signals…
Six of us sitting around a table in a nice restaurant. Maybe as much as twenty years difference between the youngest and oldest. We don’t ask about age. Fish tacos, salads, a burger ordered. A few look tired, most are having a good day. One open chair because someone had to work. Serious personal challenges…
