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Pruning the Prunes Tree
For years, I called it a prune tree. And my Brooks prune, once it had been in the ground a while, obligingly provided a prune nearly every August. Maybe September. One prune. It dawned on me that perhaps I should call it a prunes tree. Much more obligingly (or equally obligingly, if we follow the…
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Splash, smooth, silver: A thousand words in pictures
Ready for the year to turn and the light to return, I took a walk today–after the downpour, in the drizzle break between showers–and watched the full creek rushing muddy and slick through my end of town, and the raindrops poised on the rosehips and unknown (to me) berries, lone splash of color against the green…
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In memoriam (decedent unknown)
Unknown to me, that’s all, or only slightly known. Familiar, but not close. I expect (I hope) she was better known to others. There’s an assisted living home down the hill from us, close to the stop where I catch the bus to work. Ours is a neighborhood of hills and uneven sidewalking–sidewalks seem to…