Memories without time . . .

I started a class in throwing pots tonight. It was fun, but such a different kind of clay than I am used to after three years of mudding our house. I’m use to the loose, wet, straw-filled slippery clay that … Continue reading

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One Question, a poem . . . sigh

How many pages, how many notebooks, how many words and characters, how many mornings and how many nights, how many pens with ink in purple and blue and black and red, and how many bursts to organize time, how many … Continue reading

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Ah, that moon . . .

Tonight I came to the end of my driveway and the road into town led straight to a beautiful red moon.  I was so entranced I turned right instead of left as I had planned.  It was like I wanted … Continue reading

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