Red's Wrap
Happiness. It's relative.
Breathing
I sat on the steps of my back porch watching the birds and petting my dogs for a good hour this afternoon, the sun finally shining after what has been days of rain and grayness, my tangled nerves fluttering around the yard like the tiny finches coming to the just-filled bird feeders, my eyes landing on a long dead branch in the tree shading the yard, making me wonder whether I had the wherewithal to cut it down.
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Snow Door | wisconsinacademy.org
Listen to Jan read her essay “Billy” presented on WUWM’s Lake Effect
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“Fury Cannot Touch Me,” Modern Love, NYT, 9/29/11
Such an honest post. You capture some of what I’m feeling these days too. Feelings like finches—so good. And great photo too! Thank you.