Not all who wander are lost. One Night in the Cabin. Settled over the valley as darkness blanketed the landscape. We fell asleep beside the dying embers in the fireplace, the dogs. Beams danced across the aged wooden floor. A tiny mouse scurried along the widow sill nibbling on a piece of stolen cheese. He disturbed the row of clay jars. Seeing the thief, but impotent. Through the bookmarks, I read several aubades.

A new day will dawn. Fryup Press is the name I chose as a publisher. Why? Because we lived in a small dale called Fryup in the Esk Valley in the North York Moors. We now live near Glaisdale. This banner photo is our home, overlooking the Esk Valley.

Filled with Love, Flavor, and Fun. I will be posting other passages as I come across them. This quote is often accredited to Mother Theresa who purportedly hung them on the wall of her orphanage in Calcutta. People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered;. Between you and them anyway. I stepped in the doorway to .

It takes three to a conversation, me, myself and I. To live is the rarest thing in the world. I lay there waiting to hear a voice. Without you and I had no choice. At the thought of falling for your recurring disguise. In I talk with me. Of glitter is surely a delight but the more you blow on it, the more it blinds,.