I don't get up right away in the mornings. Sometimes I snuggle down in my nest and just think of things. It's when I process 'stuff' and ideas come to me: the blogs I've read the day before; the unspoken in a conversation; the intent of something said; the idea for a poem, a letter, a blog; mornings spent on the Sarasota/Siesta Key beach; friends we'd like to get together with... Retirement has afforded me the luxury of these thoughtful moments.
The last of my roses...
Our maple tree has finally turned color...
And a mourning dove above...
The last of my roses...
Our maple tree has finally turned color...
And a mourning dove above...