“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


between warm and night

there is a warm crescent moon in tonight's december sky; i stand under the milky clouds to pay my respects, and track the flight of an owl from our yard to trees somewhere behind us; church bells ring the hour.  across the street, the christmas lights chime in, no rhyme or reason to their song, a child's chorus of colors strung helter skelter through the ginkgo tree and around the windows. voices float in the darkness, car doors slam, a dog barks.  coming home.



  1. The seemingly insignificant makes quite a symphony when you listen with love to a neighborhood.

    1. a love that's grown with time. soon the street will be finishing my sentences for me . . . :)

  2. We never need worry about not having cameras or paintbrushes as long as you are here to bring your neighborhood to life for us with your words and this is 100 times, 1000 times better than a picture or a painting. And now I want to live there. I really do.


come. sit under the emma tree & let's talk. i have cookies . . .