We pause along the pond, renewed in mind and body.
We plan trips to faraway places beyond the river’s bend.
We pass through light and shadow many times in our lives.
Proper hay loading is an art.
Once again eating outdoors, strolling sidewalks, and enjoying the sun.
We’re sharing meals, laughter, and conversation on our lonely chairs and tables are once again.
Every garden needs some blue, I think. This is colored pencil.
Gentle rains this week awakened buds from their long winter sleep.
Ohio’s fertile fields, now threatened by development.
As it does every spring, water rushes by the forgotten mill near my ancestors’ farm.
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