Raspberries and Baseball

A bowl of vanilla ice cream as white as the apple of your eye. Topped with nine lost in the wild red raspberries. Game-Time Weather: Fresh yellow of daisies, not the father orange of July, nor the old man red-orange of August, or still older bleached-orange of Fall, not the infant one of March, but the teeming oneContinue reading “Raspberries and Baseball”