Jan 14, 2012
Was that a sapsucker squealing from a tall pine this morning, his whiny squeak like a dog’s rubber chew toy? I’ll never know.
This is my day fourteen contribution to this month’s River of Stones.
Writers, like children, are not dissuaded by the uselessness of hoarded ordinaries; instead, we cultivate a collector's sense, trying to capture mundane moments on a string of words. --Lorianne DiSabato
(Click here for a random post)
 | Jennie Saia on Downtime |
 | Steve on Downtime |
 | themagicalpastie on Steampunk’d |
| Jennie Saia on Steampunk’d |
 | proxycore on Being there, now |
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