FALL LEAVES SWIRL IN THE AIR

AROUND ME.

LITTLE COLORFUL PIECES OF NATURES PALETTE.

LIFTING IN THE COOL AUTUMN BREEZE.

  THEN  

LETTING GO AND FALLING

EVER SO SOFTLY TO THE GROUND

AT MY

FEET.

SKVIRTUE

10/06/2026

Fall Day

The pumpkins have turned orange on the vine,

Yellow leaves tumble down with no rhythm or rhyme.

Birds swoop and swirl in black murmuration's,

Soon to head south for winter vacations.

The morning dew on the green grass is now frost,

Warm summer mornings are a thing of the past.

Mother Nature slows down for a slow gentle rest.

As the sun drifts further south in the west.

Autumn lingers beyond my door.

Summer has passed and is no more.

Life slows down at this time of year.

Sweaters are donned, Parkas wait near.

Autumn swirls in as I open the door.

Brown leaves dance around me and float to the floor. 

The crisp fall air tickles my skin,

Causing a shiver to come from within.

I sip my hot coffee and begin my fall day.

Autumn has arrived in a cool, colorful display.

S

K VIRTUE

10/06/2026

 

Snippets - Random Constant Dreams that Everyone has in Common

 On a recent trip into town with my husband and son, we got to talking about strange dreams—those vivid, unsettling ones that stick with you. I shared the most terrifying dream I still have from time to time, even now at the young of 66 years. 

It takes me back to seventh grade, where I can’t find my locker, and when I finally do, I can’t remember the combination. Once I figure it out, I can’t recall my classes, so I wander the halls searching for the office. When I finally know my schedule, I’m faced with navigating winding stairs and rooms on different floors, with only 30 seconds between classes. Back then, this was overwhelming. From kindergarten through sixth grade, I’d always had the same classroom all day, my own desk, my supplies close by, and my name on everything. That room was my safe haven. Seventh grade was a complete shift—no comfort zone, just a tiny tin locker in a row of identical ones, a number instead of a name, and the pressure of remembering a tricky combination to get the books I needed to pass my classes. If you didn’t get it just right, the locker stayed locked forever. Many friends carried their books all day to avoid the stress entirely. Many didn't even open their locker all school year.

When I finished telling my dream, my son said that he had dreamed a similar dream. In his dream he never even found his locker. And he missed all his classes. My husband said he dreamed of constantly running up and down flights of stairs to find his classes.

I guess I am not the only one that was traumatized by seventh grade year. I imagine there are more out there that have had the same or similar dreams. Did you have a dream like that. Let me know in the comments.

SK Virtue

September 14,2026

SNIPPETS- A DIVINE SENSE OF HUMOR

 

A Divine Sense of Humor

There are times when I feel that God truly has a sense of humor. Dreams unfold in unexpected ways, and just when it seems like a dream is finally becoming reality, something completely absurd happens—a person in a gorilla suit, for example, picking corn in a cornfield. The situation feels so bizarre and out of place that it makes you pause and wonder what it all means.

Finding Meaning in the Unexpected

As the dream goes on, the unusual moment stays with you. In the dream, further down the road, you actually encounter a real gorilla, and suddenly the previous experience makes sense. What once seemed random now has purpose. It’s as if God, was preparing you for what was to come. In that moment, you can’t help but laugh and appreciate the humor woven into a dream.

SK VIRTUE

02/25/26

A life Well Love- The Stories of my Parents. - Family

  ***Back story. My mom and dad were married in 1957 at the very young ages of 15 years old and 17 years old. Mom was pregnant at the time and Dad wanted to marry her. My dad is Hispanic, and my mom is Irish. Mom's sisters and brothers were very much against my parents getting married. But my grandparents weren't. Both my grandmothers went to the courthouse with my parents and signed the consent for them to get married.  My parents were married for 66 years and had seven children. Mom passed away on April 2, 2023, and Dad is still alive at the time of this article writing which is Jume 2026. These are the stories of their life according to them. *

As told by my dad (Gonsalo)

It wasn't easy for your mom back when we first got married. When your oldest sister was born, your mom was only fifteen years old. And I was eighteen. Nobody really thought we could take care of a baby at that age. Your grandma even insisted that we give your older sister to her and Grampa to raise. But your mom said " Babies aren't just animals you can give away. She is mine and Gons baby and we will raise her." And we did. But your grandma helped a lot. And then we had all of you. A good family. People had lots of kids back then. I am not saying it was easy. Your mom was a tough girl. At one time we had four kids in diapers. It took most of her day to wash diapers for all of you. They didn't have those disposable things back then. And all we had was a wringer washer and the clothesline. Your grandma (Dorie's mom) She helped a lot. she stayed at our house a lot. And when you kids got sick, we would be up most of the night taking care of you. Cause when one got sick you all got sick. There were times I would stay awake all night and let your mom sleep. I would listen to hear if you were all breathing. But that was the life we chose, and it was worth it. I had a good life with your mom and you seven kids.

Sk Virtue (as told by my dad)

25th wedding anniversary

June 28,2026

A Life Well Loved - Blonde!

 My Dad is 87 years old now and I take him lunch almost every day. And every day he tells me the story of my birth. As soon as I walk in the door, he hugs me and then says.

"Do you know they were chopping corn when you were born. And I took time off and went to the hospital and I saw you through the window. You didn't have much hair. I stayed for a while and then went home. Your Grandma was watching the other kids.  And as soon as I walked in the door, she asked me what color your hair was. I told her blonde.

 And she looked at me and yelled "Blonde! Where did she get that hair."

I laughed and told her "I don't know, you will have to ask your daughter when she brings the baby home."

The funny thing was my dad is Mexican, and his hair is black as night and my mom being Irish had brown hair. Grandma couldn't figure out where I got blonde hair. But I didn't have blonde hair. I just didn't have enough for my dad to see it was brown. I have always had brown hair.

One more funny thing about this is he did name me after Sandra Dee who did have blonde hair. Except Mom wouldn't let him keep the D as my middle name.

He thinks that is the funniest story. Someday I might just dye my hair blonde and surprise him!

SK Virtue

01/29/2026

Snippets - Run Piggy Run

When I was about 18, I lived with my parents and a few siblings about a mile outside Park City, Montana, on a property with an old farmhouse, a bunkhouse, some sheds, and corrals. I’d graduated high school the year before and worked at a sewing shop in town. My 15-year-old younger brother, Raymond, stayed in the bunkhouse, and when he wasn’t in school, he helped my dad at a feedlot fifteen miles away. At the time, my parents decided to raise pigs, so they bought a bunch of weaner pigs and kept them in the corrals behind an old shed. Those little guys were adorable, always wrestling, fighting, and playing. One Saturday, my mom went to town with my siblings, my dad was at work, and I stayed home. My brother loved to sleep in when he didn’t have school or work, so he was still out cold in the bunkhouse. I happened to glance out the window and saw piglets running wild—they’d escaped the pen. I pounded on my brother Raymond’s door, yelling, “The pigs are out!” Then I bolted after them, chasing those wily little things around the corrals and sheds until I was winded. That’s when my brother joined in, but the piglets were like greased lightning, darting just out of reach, sending him face-first into the dirt a couple of times. We took turns chasing them for over an hour until we finally collapsed, exhausted and filthy. And wouldn’t you know it; those mischievous pigs found the hole they’d escaped from and trotted right back in. My brother looked at me and said, “Those goddamned pigs.”  I shook my head and echoed him. “Those goddamned pigs.” We both burst out laughing, then covered the hole with a board and nails, making sure we wouldn’t have to run after those little pink troublemakers again.

SK Virtue

02/01/2026