Wednesday, February 9, 2022


Not found on a southern prairie, but at a seaside home.  I had to trespass a bit to take the picture.  As always, I anticipated attack dogs that didn't materialize.  Just something once beautiful, now a ruin.  Dilapidated.  And yet. . . some aesthetic splendor.  Lost stories, tales untold, it still can spark the imagination.


I slept poorly, rose before five.  It is dark, cold, and wet, an inauspicious start of an inauspicious day.  

There are some things a new coat of paint won't fix.  There are many.  

I think I'll go back to bed now.  


No comments:

Post a Comment