“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


everyday sunday: may 11

sunday morning. humid, still, lush, sticky, overgrown.  creamy white catawba blossoms hang from the gray sky, dropping spent blooms into the creek. the smell of honeysuckle meanders in through the open doors. the green could not be greener. i am typing to the one rhythm my fingers seem to have, a slow dance, almost not moving.

small breezes blow by and keep going.  we'll stay.  the day is calling us.



  1. oh my gosh... i adore the place in this photo. just gorgeous.

    1. the temporary bridge. not so temporary. :)

  2. This reminds me a little of Chartwell House...

  3. Oh, Debi. I have been away from blogging for ages. Yes, I've posted my weekly poem and list, but that's about it for months and months. I have missed visiting my friends. I have missed connecting. (Facebook just isn't enough.) I have missed you, friend.


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