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AH, DEAR READER. TIME has not stood still here. No, it's been rushing right along. Before I knew it, large chunks disappeared forever in the fast-moving stream. It was an entire week ago that I traveled south to my childhood home, and lugged along back a load of nostalgia and stuff that got hung-up in the headwaters (mementos from my youth, that would be; things from the attic; forgotten semi-treasures from closets and drawers).


Such has been the rushing current of this past week that boxes and bags are still sitting neglected in corners of my kitchen. Unopened. Today I took a cloth and some wood polish and cleaned the wooden box that was crafted forty-some years ago in my dad's cabinet shop. It's sole purpose has now been fulfilled. (I'll entertain guesses).





If you can drift awhile in your peaceful canoe while I'm shooting the rapids, Reader Dear, I promise I'll let you watch the unpacking.

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