07.June.25

She, static as a mule [and certainly in no hurry too], could not be persuaded to set her baggage and sit for her shoot; the whiffletree had broken freeβ€”leaving her steering stubbornness and the photographer’s collectiveness carted to where patience is departed. ; )

05.June.25

β€œPsst, Geri! I know this brush may seem lush, but it is also quite pricklyβ€”especially on the nosey.”

β€œCome with me. I know a secret spotβ€”a neck twixt those hillsβ€”teeming with trees dolloped by greenery fozy.” ; )