Reflections from an Open Window
Linda Raha's Writing Corner
I love my garden; I love my blue sky for a roof. I love the decor of my garden room; the colors blend in a lovely way, deep red tomatoes, bright yellow sunflowers, and pale green cucumbers. The trellis is so magical, weaving vines, like a tapestry upon a wall; I am at home here.
We are only a few weeks into autumn, and already I am dreaming dreams of Christmas soon to be. Why is it when the first yellow leaves begin to drop in autumn, my thoughts turn to a fire crackling in the fireplace, and I long for the scent of freshly-baked Christmas cookies? It is too
I waited for the rain to come; the clouds gathered and stirred, but still, not a drop. I waited, the sky a silver palette, deepening into a swirling, charcoal grey. I waited, as if for a ship to come into a harbor, seeing it far off, making its way. All at once it began, the