The sun decides whether or not it wants to come out today, and I feel like I am living in this Will Barnet painting that Miss McKay snapped and sent me from the Crystal Bridges museum in Arkansas. My cat is brown, but I think sometimes he dreams he is white.
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Author: loiseaufait
Little by little the bird feathers its nest, and object by heart burnished object we surround ourselves with lovely necessities of memory and function. It is these things that make a silly Apartment a Home or a silly Wednesday an Occasion.
Whether my nest is an old farmhouse, a sixth floor tenement walk up, or a brownstone basement... whether I share it with family, vagabonds, women of heart and mind, or a little brown cat and a sweet ginger banjo, my principal joy is filling it with light and laughter (and corralling).
View all posts by loiseaufait
Feather By Feather 
It’s gray here too– it has been for weeks. I can relate.