Quarry House on the Web. The 47 failed pictures,. The twelve failed poems,. The stories balled up and tossed. That litter my study floor. You do not see the glorious failures,. That leave others who know you best .

At the time I first made my notes for this entry, Flo was living in assisted living. Unfortunately, a month later, she had moved to memory care. More about that visit later. With them, she hears only marginally better. Not only is Flo unable to hear. Talk, she cannot hear. Going to cut your hair? There is .

With that, the man gave the old dog a final hug as the veterinarian quietly administered a final injection. And then everything just faded away. The blanket on the floor of the exam room had been replaced by a soft bed of fragrant green grass.

Life sucks, then you die. Always look on the bright side of life. A few weeks ago, my friend Donna posted on Facebook how she came upon her friend George who is Autistic. It has been raining what seems like every three days in my pocket of the world and many others. Have in our lives now a.

See ye no strangers; rather see all men as friends, for love and unity come hard when ye fix your gaze on otherness. Hummingbirds and oranges for the holidays. A friend sent a gift of many delicious lemons from one of her trees last week. The oleander trees have flower buds, while a tall sycamore flaunts dark yellow feathery flowers three stories above us. Meanwhile, across the region marches a se.

Late in the season,. I wake up to the first battle,. The simple act of waking, a skirmish,. The turning point of the day. I talk with the woman I love,. Her voice waking me from full moon dreams,. Pushing aside the dark lies. My feet hit the floor. The words, always the same,.