Sunday Morning Coming Down

It's Sunday. The house is quiet in these early morning hours. I'm tucked away in my she-room, sipping fresh coffee. In summer, when the sun rises early enough to angle through the small window, it falls across the corner of the antique maple dresser I stripped down to the wood and then hand-rubbed with tung … Continue reading Sunday Morning Coming Down

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A Year of Becoming Crone

I marked sixty years of life last month. I am relishing the milestone. True, a trace of mourning for my lost youth still lingers around my edges, but the circle turns ever onward and aging is life. I find I spend more time imagining my crone years stretching out before me, who I want to … Continue reading A Year of Becoming Crone