day loses color
then gray darkens to pure black
my soul acts that way

for Thursday Photo Prompt


new layer of leaves
more humus for the forest
our layers are paved

for Thursday Photo Prompt

The Neighborhood Magpie Community

magpies will eat songbird eggs and chicks
but songbirds are hard to find in my garden
wide and and wild and brushy as it is
too many cats
my magpies rely on the garden birdbath
and feeder platform
they like suet

for Thurday Photo Prompt


steep stone stairs descend
a dark figure may ascend
a bird would fly off

for Thursday Photo Prompt

writephoto: charmer

Silicon Valley Charmer


Think you can’t afford a home in Silicon Valley?

Check out this beauty! So close by in the Santa Cruz mountains, just off Leprechaun Parkway. Steve Jobs wanted it but it wasn’t available while he was still alive.

Priced to move! Tired of those several-million-dollar-plus pricetags? Offer a single, solitary million and be prepared to haggle! Owner returning to the auld sod. Must sell.

Bedrooms/bath/kitchen/playroom/dining room/living room/rumpus room/library/studio all in one! Schools close by, two hours by bus.

All the amenities: running water (during the rainy season); firewood and kindling nearby (except post-forest fires); food (deer, squirrel, etc.). Loads of parking space – right up to the cliff.

Diverse neighborhood: Trolls, dwarfs, elves, mountain lions, burnt-out coders, the homeless.

The area isn’t gold country, but dig and ye shall find! Pots of it! (Just don’t keep it!)


For Sue Vincent’s Writer Prompt. WritePhoto.


I had a ¬†wonderful life. Just didn’t realize how much of it depended upon my health. You’ve only got one body. Your body is all you’ve got.

My wife and I would go out dancing. She loves to dance. I noticed that my feet were getting tired easily.

I’d play basketball with my boys and the bottom-insides of my feet would become painful and swollen.

Reaching to a higher shelf, it was hard to stand on tiptoe.

Then one day after a shower, I noticed my wet footprints on the floor. The whole foot was there, heel to toe.

I knew in a flash that I had fallen arches.

I used to have high, beautiful arches. I could run like a deer. Now, flat feet.

The thing is, my wife has always been a foot person. It’s mostly a guy thing, interest in the feet. Women will focus on the shoulders of a guy, or his hands or forearms, or his hair or eyes or chin. The feet, not so much. But Beatrice from the beginning zeroed in on mine. She’d run her fingers back and forth on my arches and… I’ll draw the curtain there.

All our kids have beautiful arches. Beatrice has beautiful arches, although I’d love her just as much if she didn’t. Just so long as she doesn’t have cankles. I don’t like cankles.

Now I wear slippers around the house. I never used to. I gloried in my naked feet.

I keep my orthotics, my shame, hidden.

I have some ungents but I don’t use them because you can smell them.

I joined a support group but I tell my family I’m going out for poker night.

I drink to ease the pain and heartache but I just claim to be an alcoholic.

I wear socks to bed, even in the summer.

At the public pool, I wear “pool shoes.”

I am consulting a podiatrist about having my feet removed, to gain sympathy, support, and acceptance from my spouse.

Say a prayer of thanks every day for the good health you enjoy.


For¬†Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo

dark hills


dark hills under cloud

sun breaks through; gray becomes green

waterthrush pipes up


For Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt




“How romantic, Paul. I’ll remember this dusk forever. And yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

“I wouldn’t call this dusk, not quite yet.”


“Dusk refers to the darker shades of twilight. Twilight is a crepuscular word for the soft, diffused light from the sky when the sun is below the horizon.”

“What would you call this time, then, while we wait for the sun to set, this most romantic time when we have decided together to plait our troth?”

“Well… hmm… it’s not dark. I don’t think we’re quite at sunset yet, although you could argue that sunset is the time when daylight fades. It’s not eventide. Not gloom for the partial darkness. Possibly dimmet for the half-light, but I’m not from Devon.”


“But by the way, you plait your hair. I think you meant we plight our troth.”

“Oh yes? Well, see how I’m unplaiting my braid now?”


For Sue Vincent’s Photo Prompt