It really was all her fault, you know, Fred and I were just fine. We didn’t need no more plants around. Oh sure, there were the Oxalis I’ve almost killed 50 billion times – though if you know anything about those false shamrocks, you’ll know they also call them the Shamrock o Lazarus, cause they will always rise from the dead. Yeah, so late January … Continue reading Let me Introduce You To An Alocasia Named Ali
For some reason, beyond the realm of matter, distance, and time, I have had to pull this post out of me. I have not written for months, and this post has been dragged out of me kicking and screaming. For months, and months now the words get stuck, I am stuck. I miss writing. I love writing. I feel like a piece of me is … Continue reading Let’s Start With A Tree Named Fred
Things have stories, memories attached, bits of, scraps of, little pieces of our life. Of ancestors, voices from our past whisper, happy or sad, I love things that have a rich provenance. I suppose it grounds me, tea towel in the wind I once could be, or so mom always said. Continue reading Tales Of A Hoosier
that breeze passed thru the leaves one to another telling stories for the rain washed away yesterday, gone with that wind, again {{ oOooomMm }} Continue reading as the wind thru trees
could it be that poetry is the language of the trees? she thought. so i am fred and i am hers and she is mine seeking the sacred and divine places down highways at shores of lakes way up and down as we outgrew those old pots together her and i. Continue reading could it be?
the week began and once again i missed him. in the dead of winter whilst i watched him wilt, from lack of sun upon his leaves, and to the kitchen window he was moved to that lovely little inside garden room. yet i missed him my lovely Ficus Fred long we have journeyed, just him and i these years. so i joined him, in that sunny … Continue reading make it so
For three weeks in January the clock in the living-room was stopped at 7:45. It went tick tock tick tock away, but the hands didn’t move. Sort of like me, metaphorically. I ignored it. Tick tock tick tock, BLAH BLAH BLAH with my fingers in my ears was I. Even before I met Tim, well before, lets say forever, I have dreamed of a little … Continue reading The Merry Maudlin Bohemian Years
by PaulaB 