Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of September 20, 2020
Fall is always in such a rush to get here. Spring refuses to leave. Summer is a fair-weather friend, and winter is a drunken old bastard with an axe to grind.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of September 13, 2020
The change of the seasons was far more enjoyable when I was younger. It meant a new school year, new clothes, new classes, new girlfriends. Now it means I have to put on more clothes to walk the dog.
A Neighborhood Story of Halloween Proportions
Just your average sweep thru the rural landscape to trick or treat on a night filled with the simplicity of finding room in your heart to call everywhere home.
There was no thunder, no glowing doorway, no mysterious wind blowing through the apartment, and no choir of angels politely alerting me that physics had submitted its resignation.
The deck simply felt heavier.