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The more things change...

Change is not so much what we make as it is what happens to us unawares. Not everything that changes is progress but it is inevitable that everything changes. The seasons flow on, all too quickly. We tighten our life-vests, and try to steer clear of the rocks. Along our way down the river, we are grateful for every resting place. Here's ours. Above, as it was in our first August here in 2016, and below, as it is now. We still miss the old cherry tree in the foreground of the first photo. It died the year after we moved here. We've carved a garden out of the hill and planted blueberries on the slope above. One thing hasn't changed. We're still here. It's still home. We'll hold to that reality as long as we can.

Both feet in...


Both feet in the new year now with a full plate of writing in front of me. In addition to the Forever Novel, there are a couple of short stories (with deadlines) in progress and a homily to be unloaded the first Sunday in Lent (March 6) at the little church on the hill in Drovers Gap. Besides writing, there are several books I've promised to read and review.

I'm showing you my picture not out of any pride at my good looks, but just because I'm so tickled to be rid of the bandage on my MOHSed nose. Old people shine like comets, leaving little pieces of themselves in their wake as they home in on the Light.

Stay wild-



Henry's books.