Hi,The last of the Santa Rosa plums just dropped from the tree. They are sticky, sweet, deep purple drops, shared by the nectar loving bees and slowly ground into the gravel of the driveway. It’s deep summer here. The frogs are hiding under the weeds in the garden. Everyone’s shirts are stained daily with blackberries smeared by enthusiastic sharing from the new baby. The smoke cloud from the wildfires comes and goes leaving an acrid taste and coating everything in that familiar fine ashy dust
Beginning again
Beginning again
Beginning again
Hi,The last of the Santa Rosa plums just dropped from the tree. They are sticky, sweet, deep purple drops, shared by the nectar loving bees and slowly ground into the gravel of the driveway. It’s deep summer here. The frogs are hiding under the weeds in the garden. Everyone’s shirts are stained daily with blackberries smeared by enthusiastic sharing from the new baby. The smoke cloud from the wildfires comes and goes leaving an acrid taste and coating everything in that familiar fine ashy dust