It’s a week after New Year, the garden’s a wreck. I’d rather be writing, so what the heck. The hummingbird feeder froze into slush. The little guys don’t care, there’s still a big rush. I get my coffee and boot up my Mac, call on my muse and get back on track. I’ll admire the scene from
Sandy's Favorite Hat
this side of my window, feel what I see and just let the words flow.
Garden Plots . . . 