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My name is June. 


I have a mom with wit and wisdom and love and dementia.

I have a husband who comes home to me every evening.  Amazing.

We have high school and college kids who are growing and going. 


Years ago, when my beloved uncle died, I ordered a bushel of daffodil bulbs because he and I had once planted spring bulbs.  That made sense

And after my dad died, I started a furniture business, The Flying Fig,  in my dad’s old woodshop.   I did not know diddly-squat  about what I was doing.  I guess that did not make sense.  (But when grief comes, all rules are off.)


The Flying Fig days were wild and good and hard – it was an intense time for my hands.  This blog was borne from those extraordinary days.

The days continue to be wild and good and hard, just more ordinary-looking and heart-intense, I guess.  But ah, I am thankful to have learned that rules need not always be on.  Figs can fly.


One other thing,  I think I may be a closet eccentric.  Others may think  not-so-closet


Thanks for stopping by,


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