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So what do I write on this first day of this new month, September, this almost autumn? Do I write about how the garden is nearly ...
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My blind dog whines because he wants me to play tug. He does not whine when he bumps into the door frame, or the chair I forgot to push in. ... -
It’s not the wickedness that kills us but the expectations and the pretense It’s not the poison apple or even the apple of The Knowledge of ...
I can hardly believe it's September but the leaves are telling me it's fall.
ReplyDeleteI know what you mean; it seems like it's been summer forever, until suddenly it isn't!
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