Giving Thanks, #276-291

276. a sunny weekend 277. fresh lettuce from the garden 278. writing my 100th post this past week… I forgot to commemorate it with a little note, but no matter… I’m still forging ahead– and will possibly pick another number, such as 125 or 150,...

Wonder

It’s Friday and you know the routine! The prompt at Five Minute Friday hosted by Lisa-Jo at her site. I look forward to Fridays and these prompts. Visit her site to read other five-minute posts or to participate! Today’s prompt is “Wonder”....

Dodge and Burn

Dodge and Burn This week, I attended a class on how to use photoshop. During the class, the instructor used a phrase I hadn’t heard in years: “dodge and burn.” When he mentioned the term, it sounded vaguely familiar, and then– all of a sudden, I remembered where...

Home- a Five Minute Post

On Fridays, I often like to participate in a fun little writing exercise called “Five Minute Friday” at Lisa-Jo’s website, the Gypsy Mama. Simply write for five minutes, unedited, for the pure joy of writing. No editing allowed. Lisa-Jo provides a...

A Slice of Home

He’d drop it off on the shaded front porch, if we weren’t home. Later, we’d pick up the crinkly brown paper sack filled to the top with homegrown drops of sunshine: juicy, red tomatoes. I marveled at the generosity of the gift– a whole sack! To...

In Yellow Summer

In Yellow Summer Lilies reach skyward Yellow cranes, learning to fly Like growing children *** In summer, they frolic and laugh under the trees. The sunny yellow lilies sway tall; young souls are like the lilies, blooming in early summer’s youth, gentle and...

Backwards

It’s Friday, and sometimes I like to participate in the Five Minute Friday writing exercise, hosted by Lisa-Jo, at The Gypsy Mama.  The rules are– write for 5 minutes, unedited, and then link up and comment on the person before you. Click the link to go...

Storms, Scuffles, Wings

Lightning rips through the night, turning the dark sky a pinkish hue. Flashes are lighting up every second, millisecond, and thundering booms shake the house. With his big brown eyes, my eight-year-old pleads to crawl into bed with me. I am already waiting for him;...