Withered

I am withered now

In parts I thought would abide

I submit and smile

Five Surgeons

I had not been told

Hair plot Skin patch Cutaway

Surgery success

Bell The Cat, Bell The Gate

Our cat (RIP) did not like being belled. Never lasted more than 24 hours. Our gate, however, loves bells. In 1996 we hung these bells on our front gate, which faces a roadway with both pedestrian and vehicular traffic. The bells ring when a big truck goes by. The bells ring when a dog on a leash with a rude owner bumps into the gate while pissing on the post that holds the gate vertical. The bells ring when all the delivery drivers visit us and drop off parcels. The birds like to sit in the porthole cut into the gate just above the bells and poop. The bells ring in heavy winds. And the bells ring when an intruder opens the gate, no matter what time of day or night it may be. We love our gate, we love our bells.

The Empty Chair

Absurdly Attractive

California bright

Yes California Poppy

California cute

Useful Death

My death, indirectly, was the result of the current pestilence impacting the world. My immediate dying journey began when I was pruned from the beloved California Bay tree that had provided my scent of bay leaves to students in the outdoor classroom for many years. My leaves were sent to people all over the country so they could use them in food preparation. I was trusted, loved, and useful. I was killed because the parent tree I lived on had to be cut down to make space for expansions needed due to Covid Distancing rules for classrooms. I am still useful since my gifted artist owner will use me for art projects in my newly dead incarnation. No worries. Onward.