Thursday, February 20, 2014

For Her Birthday

Her Nana stepped outside, and alone in silence, watched as the sun slipped into darkness across this wide river.

I left her to it. Some certain heartaches must be dealt within the empty expanse of ones soul.


This is Awful

I know and I shouldn't rub it in but we're under eighty-three degree sunlight. The fallen oak leaves are thick and the wind directs the little brown pieces of flutter here and there but the smell of mast is wonderful.

I'm this close (picture my pinched fingers) to hanging a closed sign. I would much rather be home in my garage where I could tinker on my restoration projects. Yet, here I sit.

I want a big cast iron skillet of cornbread this evening....she made soup, and its delicious.

Catch you on the flip side.



This is a sorry excuse for a lunch.

And that's all I'm saying 'bout that....


Little Bit

I wish you a wonderful and happy ninth birthday. Papa misses you.

Maybe one day soon.

All my love,