Category Archives: family
Maybe in Another Life
She is a feast of soft lines and deft nooks, a heaviness of promise and allure. Our silent promises cannot be kept. A sharp look of agreement would cut through the hearts of all. Promises we have already made keep us honest … Continue reading
Table Circle
Laughter in the house tonight: small voices grow large spilling down the race of conversation around the table with its rattling dice cup. All support every roll. Applause abounds. Life will roll on, a collection of memories: sweet, bitter, sour, … Continue reading
Haiku–Freak Mountain
Freak Mountain Ramblers: I love happy feet music; hope is the way home. (www.freakmountain.com)
So Far, So Good
On this day most of a lifetime ago we stood up before family, blood-tied with freely chosen, and declared that we would live together loving each other for the rest of our lives. So far, so good. (top: otter … Continue reading
Wide Open
(Note: My kids will be at Wrigley this Wednesday, April 23, 2014, for the 100-year celebration. It’s my daughter’s gift to my son for his 30th birthday.–jrs) A century ago a ballpark opened in Chicago, on the north side. My children … Continue reading
Haiku–Good Dog, Happy Man
(Note: I came up with this for a comment on Shutterbug’s blog at 575live.blogspot.ca. I liked it, so I’m putting it here, too.–jrs) Greeting ritual: Bub, you are such a good boy! Happy hug and wag. (This is my grandpuppy, … Continue reading
Buddy’s Family Vacation
Dear Biped, I understand you humans like to show off your vacation photos. I won’t get into the details of how we pulled this off, but apparently we’re very charming and photogenic. It seems that humans can’t get enough of … Continue reading
Haiku–Live Music
Music from the heart embraces Anacortes; salty wings we are. (My great good friend Ernie Theriot and me remembering the Gris-Gris Band.)
Haiku–The Light in Lightness
Piles taller than me; it’s time to deal with The Stuff, creating lightness. Dredging up the past, memories only to keep; planning to move home. Thirty years hide here, scrabbling beneath profound dust. Maybe we’re crazy.



