When her birthday cake was placed in front of her and someone said “make a wish, Grandma!” Dolly closed her eyes and thought, okay, here’s the chance to try it.
She rubbed her back right heel on her left toe, crossed her left arthritic index finger over her third finger, took in a deep breath and chanted,
“Now may be the time, time is what we find, find the time that’s right for me. And let me see!”
I watch them come in and out,
Mouths tight, brows furrowed.
Why? They drive in with their fancy
Cars, thick coats, scarves wrapped round
Their necks like a wreath. Continue reading
I wake up to a still darkened sky, illuminated by the moon as clouds shift through and around her.
The alarm doesn’t need to wake me. Instead, the sound of the surf and a tiny click click click alerts me to the fact that I want to be awake now.
Time to tend to my garden. Continue reading
I don’t like pot pie. Well, deep inside I do, since my blood is English – way back to my great-great grandparents. So sure, I like pot pie the same way I like rose gardens and floral wallpaper and hot tea with milk.
But I used to never eat pot pie because, to be honest, it’s fattening; all flour and butter in the crust; butter and flour in the gravy; and then a speck of chicken in there. With maybe a pea or two. Continue reading
The beauty, the splendor of bare branches is
sometimes missed by its seeming simplicity.
Each limb holds its own grace and strength,
and yet the union of each to one single trunk
magnifies and signifies the greatness of ONE. Continue reading
roughwighting 