I've been writing some heavier thoughts and will try to lighten things up.
I drove to the Westmoreland Historical society yesterday. It looks like a very interesting place. I spoke with a very lovely woman who was the receptionist/ caretaker. I wanted to share a poem that I had written about places and events of western Pennsylvania. She gave me some very good direction.
My dad is still in the hospital and having up and down days.
It snowed and you know how much I love that. I need to clear the driveway as soon as I am finished sharing with you.
The following is a little ditty that I wrote as just a frivolous tease.
Pickled peppers, some like them hot. Some like them mild, some like them not.
Pickled peppers, oh what a taste, some so hot you think you've been maced.
Pickled peppers, flavored with spice, some repel and some entice.
Peppers pickled, natural zest, some eat them and others detest.
Peppers in jars canned and pickled, some tongues numbed, others tickled.
Pickled peppers, bite after bite; some howl with pain, others in delight.
Pickled peppers, some folk yearn. Each luscious bite making lips burn.
Pickled peppers, some folk savor their wonderful biting flavor.
Pickled peppers linger for days, being felt in multiple ways.
Some have heartburn, some filled with gas, but all are thankful once they pass.