It snowed today. When I woke at 5:30 the porch was speckled with white chips of ice and by 7:00 the entire yard was covered with cold white. Overnight, the last annuals lost their lingering green, leaving behind only empty branches, curled and brown. The house is very quiet. The dog isn’t snoring in Ryan’s bed, the sound of her nails doesn’t clack against the hardwood floor. They’ve grown quickly recently, her nails, as if making up for all the other ways her body is failing.
Scribbles are thoughts, musings, stories, and poems. Scribbles are inconsistently added, quick, short, and (hopefully!) fun.