Spring crossed the threshold today with wind in her untamed hair and mud on her tattered skirt, and I’ve never been so glad to see her. Like a wayfaring friend who’d been gone too long, I welcomed her in and we seemed to pick up right where we left off last year. I’d been itching…
Tag: Pottstown
what greens may come
Well, we made it. Through squall and storm and biting wind. Even though the lion of March can still rear its feral head, I always feel a great sigh of relief once February is on the books. I’ve been feeling the shift underfoot and in the air over the past couple of weeks- the kind…
