Nearly Wordless Wednesday
From showings last week:
The lemon bars I could make with this tree. My muffin top is squealing with joy just thinking about it.
Oh Ceiling Fan, my darling, please don't cry. Someone will buy your house soon and you won't be so lonely anymore.
Not from showings. From my front yard last Friday at sunset:
Sometimes the clouds near my house catch fire and burn until the mountains are black. (See, I can be poetic, too. I might make this an emo-blog and start cutting myself.)