17 beats

and I used to walk the dog in morning dark at 10 below,I’ll say.

Six churr-full hens on winter holiday accept room service with thanks.

old photos in a box sparks of memories may burst to flame when dumped

Winter sun hangs low and skates across my window in the afternoon.

It’s surprising, the emotional range a flat cardboard box can hold.

Fierce wind whips cold tears from my eyes as I watch daylight fade, in color.

It seems the dog knows which pack is most likely to carry her stuffy. 

free ranging chickens sampling and trampling lettuceleaves what a big mess!

It’s 10pm and August light still shines bright but that’s about to end.

Some of us are better at the social distance measure than others.

speckled sussex my gentle curious friendsweetly churring content 

late in the seasona single bleeding heart bloomsunexpectedly

small batch raspberry jam for a bright red taste of sweet summerdelight

glaciers and snowfieldsmelt to hold the sky in a dimpled reflection

We walked off the edge of the grid to this place where the quiet sounds big.

It’s so fun seeing the proof that our backyard was not canceled this year. 

Out where the water rolls up onto mud I can hear my memories.

afternoon sunevening buckets of rain flash.BANG! wrap it with a bow

I think it might depend more on a shovel or perhaps the chickens.

sun sets like fire to light the grass at waters edgeflames dance in the wind

Ugly chainlink fence is nothing when the Diva turns her face to you.

like magicI turned backyard berries into jam then we ate it all

summer tastes likesweet cinnamon peaches in a custard crumb crust pie