The View From My Cup

The view from my cup…a sign that brought back memories flooding back of my son when he was a little boy. One day, when we lived in Pennsylvania, his dad and I were discussing where to eat dinner. Duncan piped up from the back seat, “Bob three vans!” Ummm, what? He...

Maybe this isn’t the typical ‘Spring in the Garden’ photo but it speaks volumes for me. Dare I say it is fraught with symbolism? It’s a picture of the sunrise behind my old garage which I haven’t been able to see for years due to an overgrown privet shrub. Not exactly...

The view from my cup…memories. Although you might only see an African violet, I see memories of my mother. I’ve never been quite sure why people bemoan ‘turning into my mother’, or ‘sounding just like my mother.’ I certainly could turn into, or sound like, any number...