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.
One of the very many photos to show my girls of a land I hope they get to see one day.
Shortly after encountering these guys Marlo whispered to me, “Those are the ugliest birds I’ve ever seen.” As if she didn’t want to hurt their feelings.
Long distance friends who share a bit of the same flare.
A pleasantly drama-free wildlife encounter. Thanks for the wink and head nod, Universe.
Chuck remembers Southern California, and he could definitely roll.
Not nearly as big or unwieldy as my Granny’s purse, but she’d slow clap for me and tell me I’m moving in the right direction. And then she’d see how hard she could hit one of her kids over the head with this thing.
Greetings from the Inland Empire where oddly I got very in touch with my Southern roots.
In honor of the man who broke the baseball color line.
Peter Frampton was for Marlo. This… this was for Leta.