Category Archives: Into My Own

Daily falling through the valleywhitening every abode,It white dressed the fieldsAnd camouflaged the road. Crunching through it’s coldness,Our pace numbly slowed.Breaths turned to icicles,And cheeks wildly glowed. Trudging gamely onward,Carrying extra clothing load,Conversation wasn’t hindered,No, it literally flowed, About how … Continue reading →

    Over the valley hung clouds of lead. that dribbled rain to wet my head. Had only the rain been roses instead.   Roses by George Eliot You love the roses – so do I. I wishThe sky would … Continue reading →

The Southern Star She looked much less than magnificentWhen the newlyweds made their first call.The kitchen was hardly a kitchen.The bathroom hardly a bathroom at all. Her interior had been poorly treated.A fire being built on her floor.Her windows would … Continue reading →

    Warm weather and rains are doing me in. I’ll have to find a way to win!       The weeds are threatening to take me out. Everywhere I see them sprout.       They crowd my … Continue reading →

“One day at a time–this is enough. Do not look back and grieve over the past for it is gone; and do not be troubled about the future, for it has not yet come. Live in the present, and make … Continue reading →

  Only A Pound Broccolli, Cauliflower, Celery, white cheese… No corn, no potatoes, no carrots, no peas… No fat, low fat, and sugar free, But only one pound deserted me. No bread, no cookies, no candy, no cake… No pasta, no cobbler, or … Continue reading →

    "Do you need anything? I’m going to town on Tuesday."   "Maybe some things for salad. But, Mike’ll be home this evening.   He’ll pick up a few things."   "Yes, he’ll probably bring some things with him." … Continue reading →

Wednesday, March 22, 2006     Exiting the valley,  Old Winter stumbled, falling backward onto the  hills, fields, and village – dumping more snow and slinging more cold. Given a hand by young Spring, he struggled to stand, shaking more snow  on … Continue reading →

 The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month. Henry Van Dyke (1852–1933)            In Spring’s parade trots Winter, on an aging, plodding … Continue reading →

   True love stories never have endings.  Richard Bach       Love Not Me John  Wilbye   Love not me for comely grace,For my pleasing eye or face, Nor for any outward part:No, nor for a constant heart!For these … Continue reading →