
it’s shipwreck season–
ghostly figures line the shores
of gitchi gami
–photo by me

it’s shipwreck season–
ghostly figures line the shores
of gitchi gami
–photo by me

thanksgiving
brings back memories
of living
on the farm
with bing crosby melodies
coming from the barn
–photo by me

i gave up drinking
and took up photography
to better my life–
yet i’m still stumbling around
looking for that next damn shot
–photo by me

I don’t know why, but these beautiful words by Julie Andrews Edwards resonate somewhere deep in my soul — thought I’d share:
“That night she dreamed of the deer.
Strangely, the animal was holding her.
She curled close into the soft fur
And touched and kissed it gently.
In the morning, her pillow
Was wet with tears.”
–Photo by me
it
begins
with a fib
and grows into
an unforeseen web
of subsequent untruths.
our noses begin growing
like the lines in this etheree,
and it’s all a little funny because
we can’t even remember that first fib.

My son Aaron managed to grab another one of the feral kittens that hang out on the edge of town; he has a soft spot for strays, and knows that they’ll freeze to death when the bitter cold comes if left outside.
This one has something wrong with her front leg; it swings around like it’s broken, but she doesn’t seem to be in any pain. It might be a birth defect. We wrapped it up to help her walk easier.
Anyway, I think it is so important to teach our children to be kind to animals. They’ll learn to be kinder all around when they’re older — and our world sure needs that!
Here’s what I believe is an anonymous quote on it to which I wholeheartedly agree:
“How you treat animals
tells me
all I need to know
about you.”
–Photo by me




photos by me

if we could see how
silly we look when we’re mad,
we’d promptly find peace
–photo by me

skittles, the wee orphan fawn,
was looking a little withdrawn,
but deer season came
and she ain’t been the same
since she had a bright collar put on

–photos by me

beyond corduroy fields,
where the suede bluffs lie,
there’s a crepe paper lake
‘neath a soft cotton sky;
yet these same textures
are hard to recall
when winter’s white blanket
covers them all
–photo by me