I don't know what you see when you look at this photo, but I see a broken generator, a truck without snow tires, a pile of lumber's been sitting in the driveway for over a year, 4 cords of seasoned firewood tarps blown off in a bad way, gardening tools frozen in place, & two wood sheds didn't get built…

We met on the job, in Quechee VT; he was the on-site restoration carpenter, & we were the new gardeners…

Yesterday's thermos of tea, a mix of throat comfort, ginger & tumeric is still there for me today, & still warm…

Sometimes our most important discussions occur in the woods, or off site, certainly not on T.V. or social media…

I sat near the wood stove, straddling the old bench seat, backside warming, as what we call the winter sun blazed out, behind a highway of darkening hills…

She'd bought four peonies, two the same, one to go down by the brook, the rest, she said, to be placed according to my eye…

Back on the patio job today …

"Yeah, they've been selling like hotcakes, not sure why" she quipped, totaling up my bill for peat moss, stove gasket & a pair of navy blue suspenders…

From where I lie on my side, I can see the shadowy underbelly of a boxwood shrub, its damp, brittle branches touching a mulch of its own making…

As the brilliant days of October darken, every pink, or purple left in the garden sharpens, to a heart-wrenching point…

Bending to popular demand, my father would sometimes find himself in MacDonald's, awkwardly jingling the change in his pockets, which was a sign of his discomfort…

“Mostly, they're just selling books to each other", said an anonymous source, when asked about the Antiquarian Book Sellers, whose brochure I was fondling…

He pulled in, his trailer hitched to his Subaru, a familiar, welcome sight…

It's been a while since the wild water looked like this, but it will again, god willing…

Still seems like summer, the invisible crickets and warm afternoon sun like a drug, lazily mainlined, in complete denial of what comes next…

Who would have thought this would be happening in the little town of Ripton, but traffic jams do occur…

The road is gently marked by a hand painted sign, & then the driveway off the driveway, not at all…

I've learned to use gas pumps without card readers again, like learning to push eight buttons in succession, on a phone that is not, also, a computer …

It's not often, but sometimes, I feel compelled to put my face on a post, to let anyone who might care, that I'm here…

There are days, and there are days …