Where I’ve Been

Sometimes I am a hyperefficient word-magician.

And sometimes everything goes to heck.

Two weeks ago, our basement flooded as part of a nefarious scheme by the nearby river to top its previous flood record, set in 1913 (the birth year of my aunt, Frances Floodine Jacobs).

A few days later, a close family member landed in ICU with a hankering for immediate brain surgery.

When I can write, I can write nonstop. And when I can’t write, I can’t write at all.

When I can’t write, I bury myself behind the lens of a camera instead. Here’s what I photographed the past few weeks when not writing/drying my basement/visiting the hospital:

Snowdrops next to the sodden foundation of my floating house.

This dude, found in a box of old toys.

This decaying condemned house.

A vintage Pepsi bottle filled with ice, mud, and iced mud.

The old baler.

Feral cat secretly wants to model.

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