All of the sudden now the air is sweet and the days are getting longer. Sitting in our den as the dish washer runs and the night combines down. Headlines draped in gloom. The air so sweet, the grass so thick, a vernal moon. On a morning that has no name I enter the world of birds, my daily walk to the lake. Up the curve of an empty road and down a dead end street. Just like it always did, the spring came back. Dawn put the Easter baskets out for the girls and we sat outside in the sun. Warmed a smoked turkey, roasted asparagus. Put on a collared shirt and got online to talk to the rest of my family back East.

Categories: Memoir, microblogging, prose, writing

Tags: creative nonfiction, journal writing, Memoir, pacific northwest, prose, William Pearse writer