My journal of big words and pretty pictures
Goodwood Duxford tales… Papers and open books were scattered across the oak library table. Battered from years of lovers carving their initials in the surface, school kids stabbing it with frustrated pencils and pens, and boot heels scraping off varnish during long naps, its patina was still rich and deep. Goodwood Duxford and Frankie Harp … Continue reading A view of heaven
A small crowd of people milled around the featured painting speaking in hushed tones and casting furtive glances over the shoulders of competing bidders in attempts to read scribbled notes in auction catalogs. The artist, a virtual unknown a year ago, was considered a modern master with his canvases fetching record bids. His posthumous popularity … Continue reading Masterpiece
Goodwood Duxford tales… A picnic basket was packed with cold fried chicken, still warm buttermilk biscuits slathered with amber honey, slices of homegrown tomatoes, fresh juicy strawberries and chocolate cake with buttercream frosting. Goodwood Duxford graciously declined Jonny’s offer to come along to play his drums, well as Roger Oakley's offer to loan his 1931 … Continue reading Visiting hours
Standing in the ankle-deep weeds and brambles, Haley stared at the old store front watching the reflections of passing cars scrolling across the surprisingly intact display windows. Carefully she moved through the over-grown parking lot stepping around broken pieces of asphalt peeking through the grass. After slapping her bare arms a few times, she cursed … Continue reading Michigan Jones
Goodwood Duxford tales… Dandelions sprang up as if overnight, dotting the garden grounds in little fluffy, yellow polka dots. Instead of his usual equipment, Goodwood Duxford, caretaker and hereditary ghost wrangler at Gramberly Cemetery, filled the pockets of his carpenter’s apron with pruning shears, a trowel, a small spade, and a water bottle filled, not … Continue reading Family reunion
They lied. They said it would only take twenty-one days until it became my new normal. I’d learn to adjust, maybe even enjoy the change. I could’ve told them on day one that wasn’t going to happen. You can’t prepared yourself for something like that. I did try. The first few days were horrible. So … Continue reading Died in the wool
Thin spiral notebook 