running out of tea bags and choosing from three varieties of loose leaf cleaning my false tooth driving the little old car – that i fully own – to work. Or walking. Or catching the bus paying rates having plenty to throw out on pick up day having time to drink a cup of tea […]
The sun is gently rising and I’m sitting on the back step, watching the paint peel, and the grass overgrow the side fence, and Old Limpy hobble after her fat, clucky sisters. And my hands are warmed by a mug of hot tea. And all is well in my world. And all is well in […]
a map spanning 91 years – her hand.
Today she gently slowed her heart rate and stayed tucked up snug in her wee house. She had a Good Lie In. Tonight she may rise and poke around for a bit, if she feels like it. That’s the life of a snail.