The birthplace of all that lives in these pages.
This cat may never enjoy a name of its own except in my household where pictures of it are a high commodity.
A feast of light and color and texture followed by one of the best meals of my life.
There is just one moon and one golden sun.
A parting gift from the place I used to call home.
First Peter Frampton, then Donny Osmond, and now… and now Sweet Micky.
So far away yet right here in the palm of my hand.
Many of you are helping to construct a building that will save an untold number of lives.
Imagine hymns ringing out from every corner of the countryside.
Once again reminded about Chuck’s lineage and which among the thousands of breeds he’s related to has such a gene so dominantly crotchety.