by Deb Farris | Jun 12, 2021 | Memoir
morning, where are you? seeds of youth now buried deep, fed by soil still– … streams of light at dawn, from darkness comes your brilliance, nourishing your growth. … cast not a shadow of unrest, but protecting, till your faith takes hold. …...
by Deb Farris | Apr 21, 2021 | Family, Memoir, Musings, Pets, Travels
As the story goes, up until twenty-three-and-a-half years ago, I had been looking for love in all the wrong places. Then one snowy winter night in the Midwest, I came to an impasse. Standing on a street corner beneath the glow of a streetlamp, stood a tall man in a...
by Deb Farris | Apr 19, 2021 | Memoir, Musings
busy carpenter bees buzzing crashing against farmhouse windows as i sit looking out to the shenandoah mountains far off in the distance horses stand still, statuesque one tail sweeps, a single hoof lifts, tilting into an elegant stance, the dancer’s b+ position,...
by Deb Farris | Oct 19, 2018 | Memoir, Musings, Poetry
I think the pumpkins are going to make it this year. There must be enough in the neighborhood to keep the squirrels eating courses, traveling from house to house like we’ve always wanted to do ourselves: first course at Winnie’s, second at Connelly’s , third at...
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...