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 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 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 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...