by Deb Farris | Jul 19, 2018 | Musings, Poetry
It is anchored there, like a buoy of protection, informing me of my inability and limitations, as if to say, “Do not swim beyond this point, silly child.” The ropes, north and south, define the boundaries. But I am stubborn, the sea beyond looks bluer. The sun...
by Deb Farris | Jul 16, 2018 | Devotions, Musings
Have you ever had an unexpected guest travel along side you as you take a walk—-in front, behind, above, beside and bop you on the head kind of guest? Funny Monarch. Nature’s tinker bell, spiritual symbol, life’s reminder of hope sometimes knows it has to stick around...
by Deb Farris | Jul 14, 2018 | Devotions, Musings, Poetry
My eyes follow the ants marching in a straight line up the side of the house heading toward the kitchen window after first discovering them assembled in clusters beneath the pots of oregano, basil and fennel that I keep forgetting to snip for our summer suppers and I...
by Deb Farris | Jul 10, 2018 | Memoir, Musings, Pets
Our impulse “Ca-Ching”, love at first site, there’s no turning back now, pet store purchase 15 years ago, is now snoozing away his Sunday afternoon on the couch—as long as I stay beside him. If I move, he follows. He had a couple belly flops today and seems a...
by Deb Farris | Jul 4, 2018 | Memoir, Musings, Poetry
There is a place we used to go every summer, where wind blows off the lake, cooling sun-parched skin from day’s labor, where deer nibble on grass outside your window, where children with toughened feet run gleefully across a stoney beach, anxious for fireworks. There...
by Deb Farris | Jul 1, 2018 | Musings, Poetry
Three things I have come to realize I am completely incapable of achieving on my own. No matter how hard I try, I fail. But every day, I begin again with good intent. I have found no better way to inspire peace, patience and purity than in observing nature. So I walk....
by Deb Farris | Jun 30, 2018 | Musings, Poetry
I stood at a fork in the road. White petals blew in the wind. One road led through a canopy of trees offering shade from the heat of the sun. But the other was adorned with petals and led on through a silky light. The trunk of the tree stood wide and strong and firmly...
by Deb Farris | Jun 29, 2018 | Musings, Poetry
I walk forward. I feel you behind me but do not turn to look back. I can sense your shadow. You are still my father, just as you were two years ago when I realized your footprints would no longer be seen on earth, or your shuffling heard. I move forward but admit that...
by Deb Farris | Jun 28, 2018 | Musings, Poetry
Wake up. Feast on your favorite breakfast like the robin. Like the rabbits, with their ears poking up from the grass playing mindlessly, can we keep a sense of fun? The city scape is behind me. But I will soon be walking into it. Rolling laps of sun-streaked water...
by Deb Farris | Jun 23, 2018 | Memoir, Musings, Poetry
I place my notebook down on the table, then pick it up again, to lay it back down. I walk away and walk back, passing it by only to return. The words inside are scrambled, my mind spins a yolk–an embryo of thoughts all stuck together. Then it finally occurs to...
