My Hands

Have never known a manicure or file. They are bitten rather than clipped. They have been painted less times than there are fingers to paint. In many places they are more scar than skin. The fingers on the right appear to have been badly broken long ago, though they never were. They often spend their... Continue Reading →


Woolly Stalkers Precede Woolly Stockings.

For a few days last week, the changing trees made us feel like we were living in a lemon. Most of the maples on our property don't go crimson.  Instead they yellow and then rust. It makes the lighting at dawn and sunset pretty epic. This week the yellow has deepened to orange.  More and more leaves give up the... Continue Reading →

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