I am supremely uninformed about all things Southeast. My experience with this region of the country can be boiled down to, well, nothing.
At least this kind of death would be painless and fast.
Fall leaves flutter, blowing clutter
through frosted nights. Winter in sight?
In the last light of last Friday, Bryon and I bid adieu to our home, sweet Sierra Nevada foothills home.
(Forgive me, mother, for this blog post, but I have been waiting years to write something like this. Forgive me, anyone else, who considers this little bit of good humor too vulgar for them.)
