Weapons of Mass Destruction

Weapons of Mass Destruction

Mother Winter (she who should not be named at this point in March) had a harder time making up her mind about her choice in how to precipitate than my daughter had in choosing a prom dress.  First rain, then sleet, then hail then big, wet snow, just as my daughter...
“Let’s Grow!” 2018

“Let’s Grow!” 2018

Sometimes I refer to myself as a “Garden Evangelist.” It’s a fetching little nickname and it’s true because I’m on a quest to convert good folk to see the light and come on over to digging, planting and growing. But there’s more to this.  I believe, to my core, that...
Footloose and Footstools…

Footloose and Footstools…

Footloose and Footstools… Miss Parker, my fourth grade music teacher, was really cool. She sported tiny, oval-shaped, gold-rimmed glasses, had long, straight dark hair, and played acoustic guitar as accompaniment to our singing.  This was 1973, so it was all perfect....
Dead Wood…

Dead Wood…

Dead Wood… I perfected the fine art of eye rolling when I was thirteen. So charming.  I’m guessing I came to this expression in response to something my father said when I thought I knew way more than he about the world and that he was purposefully...
Ode to Blake…

Ode to Blake…

“This is how I shall measure time….” I can’t find the poem. I found a short essay from which the poem was crafted, but the poem may be lost, which is not surprising since there have been many moves and nearly three decades between. The search...
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