My heart, after decades of comings and leavings, is a brilliant web of gold.
Maybe we would have shared words. Wine. Wisdom. Winter is standing by.
Pandemic pounds? Self-negative? I am who I am and you are who you are, no matter what.
If I could rewire the world, I would. It’s been a wild Spring to Summer and heading into Fall. I do know that nothing lasts (as in bad things) — […]
…by the end of the summer, we had a balanced meal, heavy on the veggies. I lived the original farm to table.
March winds bring me back to afternoons at the kitchen table of Bridget Reilly Fitzgerald–my grandmother. She would make us strong black tea, lightened and sweetened, and tell us stories about home. It was the story of the Banshee that took root.