Good morning, world.
Spaghetti Squash (that’s what the apps say the baby is as big as this week, so that’s what we’ll call it this week) and I are doing ok. 462 more words
I recall the first visit to the farm. I was excited as George’s old valiant AP6, with its spotted paint job and touched up rust, no seat belts, low bucket seats and wide mag rims rattled its way down the very rough track to his family farm. 105 more words
Like a thirsty seed sprouting into a weed in rain
The thirst to grow can dig and drag you through discomfort
Relish the grazes, jabs, and scratches
Life’s secret gifts