A quote: “We are all travelers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend.” ~~ Robert Louis Stevenson
I’ll start with a story …
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We fled the cities with little more than what we wore. Some of us died within days, others walking dead in the journey. We are a tiny group among tiny groups, relearning things we should have never forgotten.
But we do remember, one day a year, where old habits drive new ones. Gathering, offerings on the table to share – roasted wild turkey and rabbit, picked greens, bread, dried fruit … The plates are roughhewn, the flatware salvaged finds.
Look as Miriam gently unwraps a Before. Her great-great-grandmother’s sterling candlestick holders. New candles lit and, in this wilderness, we are thankful.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license
Sheila Garrett says: The woman on the horse stared at him intently. He worried she might set her pack of dogs on him, but he got by. Then she turned to follow him.
“Where’re you going?”
“Don’t know.”
“Where you from?”
“None of your business.”
He turned onto a side road but she, and the dogs, still followed.
“Do you even know where you are?”
“If you don’t leave me alone right now I’m calling the police.”
“Go ahead, I can wait.”
He did, they came. The work was hard, the pay not much more than room and board, but he had a good trade now, training the horses and dogs, and as he waited for the others to say what they were grateful for, he knew exactly what he would say.
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