The Farmer’s Almanac was his Bible
It was going to be a harsh winter
Tag: finding my way home
a neighborhood story
secret gardens and satellite dishes
“I always wanna sit down with my mom and talk bout old neighborhood stories.”
~
the key
“Home, imagined, comes to be. It is real, realer than any other place, but you can’t get to it unless your people show you how to imagine it – whoever your people are. They may not be your relatives. They may never have spoken your language. They may have been dead for a thousand years. They may be nothing but words printed on paper, ghosts of voices, shadows of minds. But they can guide you home.”
~ Ursula K. Le Guin
questioning
“I’m not sure which matters more—where the seed comes from, or where it takes root and grows.”
~ Zetta Elliott
spill
summer in your house
the morning light poured in
spilling on the chenille
like warm milk
dishes clattering in the kitchen
as you made breakfast
Licht Years 