Thursday, April 20, 2017

heart

70.3°F 84% on 7H porch, gentlest breeze stirring the various lilies, orchids, rosemary; the tomato plant that has given us one red tomato now has two more near ready and several still green but growing. Black coffee and a square of Ghirardelli dark with cabernet grape. On a scale of one to ten, I’ll give this Florida morning a thirteen. No, there’s a haze over StAndrewsBay and reducing visibility across Shell Island into the Gulf, so I’m cutting that to an eleven. 



Holy Nativity Episcopal School, a ribbon cutting at Holy Pavilion, and a surprise more like a striking stun: one of the three large bronze plaques includes our name 



on this, a place of my heart since I started first grade there the day after Labor Day, September 1941. That this would be done for us steals my heart away.

My mother took me into the classroom, Ms Violet Heyward held out a yardstick and told me to kick at it, apparently I kicked with my right foot, whereupon she proclaimed me right-handed, led me to my desk and I looked around for mama but she was gone. On that first day of the rest of my life I found out that we are on our own.

DThos+ well along in +Time+  

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