Where Lost Dreams Come From

Once upon a time, I loved to take pictures. So, I took lots and lots and lots of them. And for a while I was good about uploading them and organizing them and labeling them and even sharing them on Flickr.  Then work encroached more and more on my free time until all I was doing was work and my camera began to drift further and further from my grasp, until finally it just sat most of the time in a very dark corner of my purse.

Then many of those images suffered a more serious blow when my computer almost died. Thanks to the efforts of Robert and a friend my pictures were saved, but they are living on Robert’s computer now – not easily accessible on an alternate drive – and the only ones I have  access to are my Flickr pix.

And so, that’s how they joined the ranks of lost dreams. They are whispers now, but sweet in their scarcity. They remind me of other dreams and dalliances with imagined beauty. And they create a longing for those things I have left behind.


A bumble bee dances along the disc florets of a sunflower. It graced the garden I grow outside the staff entrance of the library; a garden that also blooms with cone flowers, coreopsis, hollyhocks, lillies, portulaca and a lovely miniature butterfly bush.


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