Born in a small, Illinois log cabin . . . No, that won’t work. The pampered only child of incredibly wealthy parents . . . No, that won’t fly either. Raised by French nuns after her aristocratic parents were beheaded . . . No, that’s been done! Got it: An East Coast transplant to the Pacific Northwest, this notoriously late bloomer began her new life with a new career as a writer and blogger. She has taken to both the new location and the career move like a duck to water. Writing is a new adventure, and our intrepid risk-taker is diving in, feeling right at home and making new friends. Reached for comment, she replied, “Okay, I wrote my bio, now may I Please go out and play?” We expect great, or perhaps merely more coherent, things from this writer. (Okay, that’s a wrap. What a wacko!)
I was told once, when we visited Mrs. Santella’s garden, that to see a bluebird was to have good fortune. They are proud and their deep blue is gorgeous.
Sunlight strikes
Pacificmelody's Blog 
September 20, 2014 at 5:44 pm
I was told once, when we visited Mrs. Santella’s garden, that to see a bluebird was to have good fortune. They are proud and their deep blue is gorgeous.
LikeLike
Pingback: a valiant fight – the woodland gardener
Pingback: a valiant fight ~ the woodland gardener