My father died several years ago. For the first time in years (maybe longer) I had a nightmare about him. Below is my “too damned early in the morning to be typing” transcription of that dream. He comes out of the house, holding a wooden sword. New king and queen, SCA family all around. He
I was thinking about my old house again (go figure), and I remember a nasty old well we had. Our water source had been converted over to County utilities years before we came to squat in my childhood home in Arkansas. Long before the fire got the property, the ice wreaked its havoc as well.