Well, the new vines are pruned and March has not yet ended.

Cool air, snow still on the ground, and I have a wonderfully fulfilled feeling.

Muscles ache, more than they used to. But hell, at least they ache…

 

 

My Journey Begins Where the Road Ends…

A lone shape sits high

on an overhanging branch

hunts alone

Spread before his dark outline

he sees a crispy white winter morning

 

The writer receives a true gift

catches a vision of the eagle

the solitary hunter

high on a pulpit

Like a Sunday morning preacher

the proud Eagle projects more than

words

transmits a warm feeling

emanates a confidence

for an immeasurable moment

all is right with the world

 

 

A note of thanks to all my friends for birthday wishes. 68 will be a great year!

 

Golden Winter Morning

The first day of winter follows

the longest night

Up early, before the sun, warming

days forecast, enough to melt

a week’s snow.

Deer active, plow through the white cover to reach

green clover below. As I plow piles, make a path

so the smiling mail lady can reach the box in

her Jeep.

She brings cards of the season. Some with decorated trees,

Angels, snowy wood, the Magi. Some have deer who stand and

stare from a winter field.

Like the one who watches me.

A whirlwind tour of Italy was wonderful. From Roma to Firenze, Venetia, Assisi, and the Amalfi Coast.  Many stops in between – tried valiantly to straighten the leaning tower in Pisa and avoid the fifty year flood in Venice on the full moon.

I’ve returned to my author’s copy of the Walloon Writers Review. Many thanks to the editor for including my prose poem, ‘North Woods Dream’ – please find this lovely written publication, and support writer’s work – lift yourself above the morass…

 

Work on my novel – tentatively titled ‘Gentle Spirits’ is steady, slow, and careful. What a wonder, to discover new characters, and find out where they may lead you.

Meanwhile, please enjoy Firenze (Florence) at Sunset –

Need some help?

Finish your story.

Contact me, Tom Conlan:            tfconlan@gmail.com 

Editing services at extra-reasonable rates.

June 23rd brought excitement to the farm. Our youngest daughter Kathryn Elizabeth – my Katy, Katy, was married here at home.

The progress on my novel stalled a bit – perhaps a month or so of preparations dominated my time. But the delay proved worthwhile, and fulfilling.

We plowed through the rain, and danced in the tent. We enjoyed the company of family, old and new, and friends from afar.

Amazing how a wedding pulls everyone together, including Conlan’s far afield:

 

and the effervescent the McCarty Clan:

And now, a week later, as the dog days of summer heat up the kitchen – things have returned to normal –

Yet will never be the same…

This fellow has been hunting in the area.

A bit cold yet on this last official day of winter.

Muddy Waters the 2nd, nee Clapton the cat, has been hiding under the porch. Can’t blame him…