Within the last few days, the days began lasting fifteen hours.
During this season.
From 6:30 to 9:30, the sun is so loud; all day, banging on drums in the garage.
And, perhaps, whomever said howling is the lowest form of magic was not doing it dexterously.
“If I have a daughter I will name her Persephone,” she told me.
“I’ll call her Effie,” I grin, referring to an inside joke.
“I hoped that’s what you would say.”
“What if it’s a boy?”
“I don’t choose.”
Sisters sharing hushed giggles.
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Author: writtencasey
I am fascinated by the scientific endeavor and I read about or engage with those processes as much as possible. I am a compulsive reader and writer.
With a background in anthropology and as an arm-chair/backyard scientist, I hope to improve my writing skills and learn about any areas of weakness or misunderstanding in my analytic skills.
I am excited to share. Thank you for spending time here.
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