The day dawns as I take to the lake.

This rose bush is admirable.

I have to read the young woman’s sign twice. 

I realize now how much I miss this.

The problem with progression is it’s sneaky. 

My grandson is a talker who doesn’t require words.

It’s a new day.  Again.

This is a new road beneath our feet.

Cooking is a very practical expression of love.

It feels like we are in a dystopian graphic novel.

Waiting for dawn is hard.

I had no idea of the scale of this bridge.