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My Imperfect Perfect: Ima Gina Tion

My Imperfect Perfect: Ima Gina Tion

The branches of the trees outside the window behind the piano have assembled themselves in the wind to look like a begging dog, all wobbly and shaking while jumping up and down for a treat. Then just as quickly as if I said, “No, Fannie, not now,” they are still. When...
On Writing and Lilacs and Peonies, Oh My!

On Writing and Lilacs and Peonies, Oh My!

As I walked out the front door this morning, I could hardly believe the air. I turned to take a whiff of a peony as Fannie yanked my arm forward, but I caught the scent. “I love it,” my neighbor said from the other side of the street as we descended our front steps....

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