out to pasture



                “Let the labyrinth of wrinkles be furrowed in my brow with the red-hot iron of my own life, let my hair whiten and my step become vacillating, on condition that I can save the intelligence of my soul – let my unformed childhood soul, as it ages, assume the rational and esthetic forms of an architecture,…

there are times..

            it’s good to trust that voice inside your head but only if it’s your own              


    The Farmer’s Almanac was his Bible   It was going to be a harsh winter              

a neighborhood story

                      secret gardens and satellite dishes     “I always wanna sit down with my mom and talk bout old neighborhood stories.” ~ Jordan Hoechlin