The Yule season has Father Christmas. Easter has the dapper rabbit with a basket of eggs on his back. Winter has golden deer and candlelight. Autumn has Halloween frights from the vintage 20s. But for the longest time, I was perplexed what sort of decorating I could do in summer time.

Every spring she relearned the smell of warm wet earth and moss. Her feet remembered to avoid snails on the forest paths, and her heart rejoiced to see how the green surged out from the earth, gradually rising upward into the trees like a verdant leafy thermometer as the temperatures rose.

Recently I thought it might be cathartic to write down a general list of the glimmers that especially make me feel warm and fuzzy.

I have a terrible memory. I can't remember the names of most of the patrons at the library where I work, even the regular ones. Tom will start to talk about experiences we've had in our early relationship, and I can only vaguely recall them.

Toward the end of the year last year, I neglected to celebrate a very important milestone and date. November 21st, 2024 marked the ten year anniversary of when Adley Flora Froud came into my life.