The brisk wind, out of the north, has a bitter bite. A few brittle brown leaves cling desperately to the Mother Tree, quivering in the frigid breeze. Occasionally, one gives up the battle and falls gently to the ground to join his brothers and sisters as they lay in wait for decay, becoming a distant memory of their recent verdant glory. Winter is here…

As you surf the internet, come on over to Amazon to get your copy of New Yesterdays. I’m sure you’ll enjoy my tale of time travel!


Jim I love the terse eloquence of your voice with this post. The photo is a major part of the content. Do you take your own photos? That warn’t made on no Brownie Hawkeye!
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Thanks Jay! I do make some of my photos, but this isn’t one of them.
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