I took a short walk up the creek in the cold. My attention was drawn to a song sparrow flitting down to hide in the wintry browns speckled with snow along the water's edge. That is where I spotted the little dead plant hooked on a rock mid stream, growing an ice sculpture off the splashing current.
It was probably 12 inches across and I wondered if it would continue to build Or, will the dancing rill eventually shake its delicate art free and send it downstream.
I am a grandmother, a wife, a mother, a sister, and a friend.
I know that a woman who will tell her age or her weight will tell anything. I won't tell mine, so you can trust me. I have a cat. I have a duster that I don't use.
The photo header is one I have taken of Gram's antique writing desk. My dust.