A HALLOWEEN STORY, PART 2
Part 1 ended with the Dalai Lama standing on my porch.
Part 1 ended with the Dalai Lama standing on my porch.
The devil paid me a visit this week. He’d let himself in. (The devil never knocks.)
Last Sunday evening Paula and I sat on a small balcony outside our third-story room at the Waterside Inn in Chincoteague watching the sun sink slowly over the bay.
Last Saturday I went to a garden party to celebrate the publication of Steve Altman’s new book. It’s a 202-sonnet homage to John Keats. Oh, boy!
In California, we were required to wear masks in all public places. Same with Oregon and Washington. And then we crossed into Idaho.
This past weekend I saw two sons of Shepherdstown—one in a wheelchair, the other in an enduring funk. Each has been through countless rehabs. One has triumphed over tragedy. The other still struggles.
On Saturday, September 11, a motley group of people gathered at The Folly outside Shepherdstown to raise funds for a friend. Sarah, a mother of four children, has stage 4 breast cancer.
My friend died suddenly last month. He was 91. I was shocked and saddened. I also felt guilty.
Last month one of my Albuquerque granddaughters worked on my nature trail nearly every day.
In case you missed the postscript last Sunday, here it is again.
Thanks to Old Scratch I’ll be posting a reflection on something I find remarkable in and around my world most every Sunday morning.
Read more about the devil’s role in my life in “This Little Light of Mine” under Let Love Arise in the menu bar.
I met a Brood X cicada who spoke English. She agreed to an interview with The Devil’s Gift.
An old friend wanted to go on a bike ride during my blog writing hours. Friend or not, I mustn't give in to temptation or my work will suffer.
The moon eclipsed the sun on Monday. I'll get to that. But first let's take my puppy for a walk.
I lean Quaker, but I’m not comfortable with absolute pacifism.
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