At first, I only hear it when I get up to pee at night, and it seems to come from the exhaust vent.
Category: Walkaholic
When disaster strikes, we reach for the familiar — something sturdy like the trunk of a tree — and hold on.
I wrote this post in 2016 and Sheri McGregor put it in an anthology, a kind of “Chicken Soup for the Soul” for nature freaks. The essay would belong to Sowing Creek Press for a year following publication after which I could do anything I wanted with it, such as post it here on Plastic […]
The American Dream is alive and well just around the corner, a short walk from Trouts Farm.
Categories
Day 138: Forest Bathing
Happy Saturday! Bob and I are into our fourth month of social distancing. During the week he holes up in his office while I play the entitled retired housewife. I don’t identify as an extrovert, but social isolation is wearing me down. Most days I keep myself too busy to notice, but on some days […]