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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. henrymitchellbooks.com

Better late than never...

 
 
The trumpet vine by the garden gate has been blooming prodigiously for two weeks but the hummingbirds have been noticeably absent, until yesterday, when they finally showed up in force.
 
Whatever the cause of their delay, we are glad to see them We would miss them mightily. 
 
 

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