a good three months for ice cream cones!
Summer Sabbatical has begun!
Quotidian Posts will resume
on Sam's Birthday
Ah, this is the thing that comes to each of us.
The child grows up.
And, according to our own ideas, is practically asunder.
I understand it.
I struggle to celebrate.
I say, with a stiff upper lip familiar to many:
Just look at that curlyhaired child now,
he’s his own man.
from the poem "Percy (Seven)"
by Mary Oliver
in her book Thirst