Photo by Fabian Wiktor on Pexels.com Gently clutching the unsullied yet well-worn handkerchief in her shaking hands, Angela stared at her father’s initials, lovingly engraved by her mother as a wedding gift. It was the only token of their existence she had with her. She would not get snot on it. Idly, she fingered the …
This is a blog about lots of things. It's about reading and writing, farming, psychology, dreams. It's about whatever's going on in my head or outside my window. Hopefully it is interesting to someone other than myself.
