Missed you like the devil.
Now knocking at our door.
Inflicted and anticipated.
Shovels and snowmen.
Who doesn’t love Christmas packages?
Mon ami en vacances a Paris me connaissant pas un mot de francais.
A son retour, il a proclame avec enthousiasme:
“I learned how to ask where the bathrooms are!”
“Ah. Bon. Ou est la salle de bains?”
No. No! “Ou se trouvent les toilettes?”
D’accord. Je ne pouvais pas discuter avec ca!
Labor day marks the end of our summer romance.
As the leaves turn, let’s fall in love all over again.
Here in New England, when the gardens start to overflow, is one of my favorite times of the year. Relatives share their food before it spoils, neighbors leave treats at the door and country roads have home grown garden centers. Beautiful green zucchini for bread, yellow squash for stir fry and beautiful red tomatoes for spaghetti sauce. It doesn’t matter how much they weigh, frugal yanks all across the county are charging ‘two for a dollah’. Our money goes far during the ‘Honor System’ self check-out season. I can’t wait to taste the wonderful meals these beautiful, affordable, local, fresh vegetables will make…
I just need a little help from a friend. “Hon! Richie!? Look what I found doing errands today…!” This time of year my love grows by leaps and bounds.
Each night we brew a tea –
for he and I and we.
All of you are constant company –
Each flutter a welcomed harmony.
Adding beauty to our home –
All the colors at the dome.
Camomile, sugar and nectar –
Drinks all around, near and afar.
Atop a small park hilltop at the edge of the Maine and New Hampshire border where I hear the ocean meeting rock, birds in the trees and the glide of waves onto a tiny beach below.
Life is happening
On our front steps.