I type and delete. Type and delete. The words used to just spill out, now… Read the postThere is no shame in grief…
Wafting scents of thyme and rosemary fill the house, oranges rest in a cut class… Read the postThe Silence Between
“I want my son,” I whisper to the old climbing rose draping herself on the… Read the postThe Child Window
Our eighth Christmas as bereaved parents. This is what I have learned. The week before… Read the postThe Eighth Day of Christmas: Lessons Learned
I have a recipe plug-in that has a print feature! Now you can print out… Read the postDamn Good Molasses Cookies
I have missed creating these posts! I missed the Fall, Christmas was a blink of… Read the postWhat the Camera Saw: Longwood Gardens
I sit tapping keys, a torrent of words try to get through the tight wall… Read the postDecember Coffee
Easter is as difficult as Christmas to experience since Justin’s death. I loved everything about… Read the postThe Occupied Tomb
