“My feet are planted in the waist-high reeds
In the shadows in the shape of trees
Through the kingdom’s smoky leaves
You’d be laughing too if you could see
On the outskirts long and lean
Not baring gifts on a jet black steed
I think it all started with the Fisher Price record player. You know, the one that played: “Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone?” Later, I had one like this….
(365 Day 186) These are some 365’s taken through the viewfinder, a sometimes frustrating endeavor that has the potential to produce a neat little image along with many impatient outbursts….
I want to dedicate this sweater to my dog, Spotacus, for his constant companionship as I knit and his constant contribution to the amount of animal fiber included in this…
When I talk about this cardigan I always want to put on an affectation of a southern lady’s voice. I am a southern lady, so this is very affected. It…
I have been, even if my week’s practice all takes place in two evenings or one marathon session of once popular tunes. (365 Day 305) Right now the challenge is…
