Four years ago, I wrote my first Wild Trumpet Vine post.  Like the plant for which it’s named, Wild Trumpet Vine perseveres. There are dry spells, but it hangs on.  It’s grown deep roots, and it keeps me rooted to the real, keeps me on track in a world of smoke, dead ends, and mirrors.  Life is fragile.  Let’s look, live, and love while we can. 

Thanks for reading!  For more on why I write, see here.