Great Smoky Mountains.

Deep in the woods of Great Smoky Mountains National Park, in a land far away from the city there was a magical garden where all the flowers were plain white. One day, a group of mischievous fairies snuck into the garden and decided to have a bit of fun.

They went from flower to flower, sprinkling different colored powders on each one. One flower got sprinkled with red powder, another with blue, and so on. When they were done, the fairies giggled and disappeared, leaving the garden looking like a rainbow had exploded.

As the days passed, the flowers started to change. The ones with red powder turned pink, the ones with blue turned purple, and so on. The plain white garden was now a riot of colors, and it was beautiful.

But the fairies weren't done yet. They came back to the garden, disguised as bees, and started buzzing from flower to flower. As they sipped nectar from the flowers, they accidentally spilled a bit of their magical fairy dust, which had the power to make the flowers smell sweet.

And so, the flowers not only became different colors, but they also started to emit fragrances that attracted bees and other insects to them. As the insects buzzed from flower to flower, they unknowingly helped the flowers to reproduce, spreading pollen from one flower to another and ensuring that the garden continued to thrive.

And that's why, to this day, flowers come in different colors and emit sweet fragrances. It's all thanks to a group of mischievous fairies who wanted to have a bit of fun and ended up creating something beautiful.

#STORY By #FrankGCaruso #fairies #flowers #bees #magicalfairies #woods #GreatSmokyMountainsNationalPark

Green Haven Gardens.

Heather Lynch tends her garden with care,

With love and attention, she tends to each heirloom tomato,

From seedlings she nurtures, in soil rich and brown,

Her Green Haven Gardens, her verdant crown.

Each tender shoot, a promise of fruit,

A future harvest to nourish and suit,

Tomatoes of all shapes, colors, and sizes,

With flavors that burst and tantalize.

From Cherokee Purples to Brandywines,

Sunrise Bumblebee and San Marzanos divine,

Her heirloom tomatoes are a treasure to hold,

A bounty of flavor, both sweet and bold.

With gentle hands, she tends each plant,

In her garden, they thrive and enchant,

A testament to the beauty of nature's art,

Heather's heirloom tomatoes, a work of heart.

So, let us celebrate this garden of wonder,

This oasis of life, this garden of thunder,

With Heather as our guide, we'll all be blessed,

In Green Haven Gardens, we'll find our rest.

#photography and #STORY by #FrankGCaruso

Green Haven Gardens #CherokeePurples #Brandywines

#SunriseBumblebee and #SanMarzanos #gardening #tomatoseedlings

Childhood Days Gone.

In the shadow of a sunset,

As it falls behind the barn,

I stand in awe and wonder,

At the beauty of this charm.

The colors of the sky,

Are a sight to behold,

A mix of oranges and blues,

That never get old.

I feel the warmth upon my skin,

As the sun slowly fades away,

Leaving behind a peacefulness,

At the end of another day.

I reminisce on memories,

Of childhood days gone by,

Playing in the fields,

Under this same evening sky.

With my childhood friend, Tommy Canfield,

And as the darkness slowly comes,

I know that life goes on,

But in this moment, I'm content,

To just stand and watch until it's gone.

For there's a magic in the sunset,

That never fades or dies,

A simple beauty in nature,

Tommy and I are running like the wind.

That always brings a smile.

#STORY & Photo by #FrankGCaruso

& #TommyCanfield #akidslife

#barns #sunsets

The Living Years.

Growing up happens in a heartbeat.

One day you’re in diapers.

The next day you’re gone.

It’s that fast.

Living hands landed me here.

Hands that are no more.

My visitors are long gone.

Still, I yield to none!

Carved in my stone,

Is a beloved soul beginning and end of a story.

At rest with nature.

Where the stars are hung.

So many seasons have tried to alter me as the ages pass.

Storms of cold,

Winds of dust,

Suns of heat,

Strikes of lightning.

All have tried to quell my creative spirit,

but I will have none of that.

#FrankGCaruso

#screenwriter

#filmmaking

Mom What If ?

I would be five years old looking up at my mother uttering the words.

“Mom What If?” That would be a lifelong question that I would ask others to take a moment as I do every day and imagine what might happen or what might have happened. My family has known this and acknowledged the imaginary world that I live in daily. That brings me to my shirt, gifted to me by my long-time friend “Dano” Dan Loomis. Dano presented me with this shirt tucked away in a pink bag wrapped in pearl white paper. When I pulled it from the bag and saw the words “What If?” I had no idea he recognized that part of me. Dano would go on to tell me, “Don’t stop that wonder, Frank; kids grow up and lose it, not you.”

To my friend Dano: A seed of birth does not make a family. A family is something that transcends all creation. That love, true love, comes from a place that may not have blood but wings that are far more enduring.

For Dano Today What If?

What if the stars were within our reach,

And dreams were lessons that life would teach?

What if the rivers whispered tales untold,

And secrets of the universe could unfold?

What if the winds carried words of grace,

And time could be rewound, erased?

What if the mountains could touch the sky,

And we could spread our wings and fly?

What if laughter could heal every pain,

And kindness reigned, like a gentle rain?

What if differences were celebrated,

And love's power was never underrated?

What if colors danced in harmony,

And hate dissolved, a forgotten memory?

What if borders were mere lines on a map,

And unity prevailed, across every gap?

What if we could glimpse into each heart,

And understand, right from the start?

What if forgiveness flowed like a river,

And grudges were lost, forgotten forever?

What if our thoughts shaped our reality,

And gratitude bloomed, like a fragrant duality?

What if fear vanished, replaced by trust,

And compassion became an absolute must?

Oh, the wonders that lie in the "what if,"

A realm of possibilities, a cosmic rift.

Imagination's canvas, where dreams can abide,

Where hope and wonder forever collide.

Though "what if" may be a realm unseen,

It sparks the fire of what could have been.

Let us dream and ponder, with open minds,

For in the "what if" lies the world that binds.

By #FrankGCaruso

#Whatif #friendship #family #imagine Dan Loomis

Cucumber Leaf.

You have fallen into the hands of an artist.

With Narra’s skilled hands, a story unfolds,

A tale of nature's beauty, in hues of green and gold.

With delicate shaping of clay, where the Cucumber Leaf thrives.

Oh, humble Cucumber Leaf, so unassuming and small,

Yet your intricate patterns, hold wonders for me.

Veins branching out, like nature's intricate maze,

Whispering secrets, in a silent, verdant haze.

I Imagine your vibrant green attire when you dance with the breeze,

Caressing the sunlight, as it filters through your tree.

A testament to life's intricate embrace.

Upon your emerald veins, tiny droplets of stories, emerge.

Pearls of morning dew, a gift from heaven's mission.

They shimmer and sparkle, like diamonds in the light,

Reflecting the world's wonders, so pure and bright.

From seed to sprout, you reach towards the sky,

With determination and resilience, you grow high.

Your leaves unfurl, like nature's open arms,

Welcoming the world with its enchanting charms.

Oh, Cucumber Leaf, you teach me to thrive,

To find beauty in simplicity, and truly come alive.

Through Narra’s eyes, your essence is revealed,

A masterpiece of nature, forever sealed.

I cherish your presence, oh Cucumber Leaf,

And honor your beauty, beyond belief.

For in your humble form, I find solace and peace,

A gentle reminder that nature's wonders never cease.

By #FrankGCaruso

A gift from the artist Narra Smith Cox

VISIT: https://www.gardenharvestpottery.com

The Concierge’s Walk

When I would see the fallen blossoms fall to the ground creating a colorful carpet along the curb, the passage of time was clear. Each petal that graces the curb tells a story, a story of seasons past, of tears, of love and loss. They reminded me of the fleeting nature of life and the importance of cherishing every moment.

Its petals, once vibrant, would soon descend,

And the cycle of life would meet its end.

But in that final fleeting bloom,

A promise for tomorrow did loom,

Seeds of hope carried by the breeze,

To a place unknown…

By #FrankGCaruso #concierge #Dean #ssmhealth #cherryblossoms

Purple Iris Afloat On Wisps.

In realms unseen, where dreams arise,

There blooms a marvel, a grand surprise,

A flower unique, and rare,

The only living, purple iris,

Afloat on wisps of ethereal air,

Its petals are natures wings,

Shimmer, beyond compare,

In celestial gardens, it claims its throne,

It drinks the nectar of dreams untold,

A symbol of hope, in realms sublime,

A testament to nature's magical strings.

Embrace its beauty, let your spirit soar,

Through realms unknown, forevermore,

For in its presence, wonders reside,

The only living, purple iris lives on

By Frank G. Caruso

#purpleiris #Garden #flowers #iris #celestialgarden

The Artist Among Us.

Art is a voice, when words cannot speak,

It mends broken spirits, gives strength to the weak,

It challenges norms, sparks revolutions bold,

Inspiring change, creating stories untold.

Through sculptures and dance, bodies in motion,

Art captivates, it stirs deep devotion,

It provokes thought, challenges our beliefs,

A catalyst for growth, a balm for our griefs.

Art is the language of the human soul,

A bridge that connects, making us whole,

It sparks the imagination, ignites our desire,

To dream, to create, to set our hearts afire.

So cherish art's presence, in every form,

In galleries, theaters, in the eye of the storm,

For it enriches our lives, brings us closer together,

Art is the essence that makes us forever.

From #oregonwisconsin by #FrankGCaruso

#Art #sculptures #artist #artwork #artoftheday #artistic

My Chamois Through The Years.

Gather 'round, for I shall weave a tale,

Of cleaning cars, where spirits prevail.

With chamois in hand, my journey starts,

To polish each beauty, straight from my heart.

My first baby the #FordFalcon a classic delight,

With its vintage charm, it takes flight.

My chamois glides, embracing its curves,

Restoring its shine, each stroke it deserves.

Next, the #BuickSkylark, grand and serene,

A symbol of elegance, like a dream.

I caress its surface, tender, and kind,

Reviving its luster, memories unwind.

Oh, the #FordTurino strong and resilient,

Through the years, its spirit brilliant.

My chamois dances, a gentle duet,

Revealing its glory here and now.

Behold my #ChryslerNewport long and wide,

Turning corners seems to take forever,

Taking every bit of my chamois to get the job done.

That #ChevyS10 a sturdy companion,

With grit and determination, it's never abandoned.

We work hand in hand, side by side,

Transforming its presence, with love as our guide.

Ah, the #FordMustang a horse with grace,

Its power and beauty, I joyfully embrace.

The chamois glimmers, as we wipe away,

The tales it carries, through night and day.

Now, the #BuickLeSabre a touch of refinement,

I cleanse its essence, a testament to alignment.

My chamois glides, like a gentle breeze,

Unveiling its majesty, piece by piece.

My #PontiacGrandPrix swift as a dream,

My chamois continues to whisper, great work Frankie.

Its radiance was restored, with every stroke,

A symphony of shine, a heartfelt evoke.

Lastly, the #ChevySilverado a truck so bold,

I honor its might, as legends unfold.

My chamois sweeps, a polishing brigade,

Reviving its splendor, an accolade.

With my chamois as my trusted guide,

I bring back the brilliance, far and wide.

Each car shines anew, a family affair,

In the realm of cleaning, I find solace there.

So, let us embark on this cleansing quest,

With my chamois in hand, I’m truly blessed.

For in the art of cleaning, I find delight,

Preserving memories, in every stroke of light.

By #FrankGCaruso

The Forgotten Stone.

In a forgotten corner of the world, nestled between towering mountains and ancient forests, there lay a small village named Giethoorn. The village thrived with a sense of enchantment, for it was rumored that a mysterious rock resided at its heart, a rock that held a tiny magical stone.

Legends whispered of the rock's existence, passed down through generations. It was said that the rock possessed the power to grant a single wish to whoever held the precious gem nestled within its core. Many had embarked on quests to find this legendary rock, but none had succeeded. The rock remained elusive, hiding its secrets from the world.

Among the villagers, there lived a young girl named Grace. With an insatiable curiosity and a heart full of dreams, Grace found herself captivated by the tales of the rock. Determined to uncover its mysteries, she embarked on her quest, guided by the whispers of the villagers.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months as Grace ventured through dense forests and crossed treacherous rivers. Her journey took her to unexplored caves and atop towering cliffs. She faced countless challenges, but her resolve remained unyielding.

One fateful day, as the sun began its descent beyond the horizon, Grace stumbled upon a hidden grotto. Its walls glistened with iridescent crystals, casting a soft, ethereal glow. Just outside the heart of the grotto, she spotted a small rock, unassuming and ordinary in appearance from a distance.

A flicker of doubt crossed Grace's mind, for the rock before she seemed far from the grandeur described in the legends. However, something reminded her of what her father once told her. “Always be curious that is how you discover new adventures”. With that memory, Grace was convinced that this was indeed the rock she had sought. Ignoring her doubts, she reached out and picked it up.

At that very moment, a warm and radiant light emanated from the rock, bathing the grotto in a mesmerizing glow. The tiny magical stone, hidden within the rock's core, had awakened. Grace felt a surge of energy coursing through her veins as the stone responded to her touch.

With a heart full of anticipation, Grace closed her eyes and made her wish. She wished for unity and harmony among the villagers, for the betterment of Giethoorn and its people. As her words echoed in the grotto, the stone glowed brighter, resonating with the power of her heartfelt desire.

As the light faded, Grace opened her eyes to find a transformed village before her. The once-divided villagers stood hand in hand, their differences bridged by newfound understanding and compassion. Joyous laughter filled the air, and a renewed sense of unity embraced the land.

News of Grace's wish spread far and wide, reaching the ears of neighboring kingdoms. Giethoorn became a symbol of hope, inspiring others to seek harmony and unity in their own lands.

From that day forward, the rock and its tiny magical stone became a revered symbol of wisdom and benevolence. It remained in Giethoorn, guarded by the villagers, a constant reminder of the power of dreams and the extraordinary potential within ordinary things.

And so, the tale of the mysterious rock, which held a tiny magical stone, lived on, forever etched in the annals of Giethoorn’s history. And Grace, the girl whose wish had sparked a transformation, became a legend herself—a guiding light for those who dared to dream and believed in the magic that lay within their hearts.

#STORY By #FrankGCaruso #Giethoorn #Village in the #Netherlands #dream #mysterious #rock #powers #magical

Verna Harris Best Little League Hitter.

This following story came to me today in my travels when I saw this baseball. It reminded me of a girl that I went to school with at Horatio Seymour. Her name was Verna Harris. I still hope she is with us today.

#Story and #photo by #FrankGCaruso

It was the summer of 1974 in the small town of Cooperstown, there lived a young girl named Verna. Verna was an exceptional baseball player with a passion for the game that surpassed all her peers. She had dedicated countless hours to honing her skills, always striving to be the best little league hitter in the town.

Every day, Verna would practice at the local baseball field, swinging her bat with precision and focus. Her dedication paid off, as she became renowned for her incredible hitting ability. People would come from neighboring towns just to watch her play, marveling at her talent.

As the seasons changed, Verna's team, the Cooperstown Hitters, entered the final game of the Little League championship. They were up against their arch-rivals, the Oneonta Lightnings. The stakes were high, and the tension in the air was palpable.

It was the bottom of the ninth inning, and the Cooperstown Hitters were trailing by one run. The bases were loaded, and Verna was up to bat. The pressure was immense, but Verna's determination never wavered. She knew this was her moment to shine.

The pitcher wound up, and with a mighty swing, Verna connected with the ball. It soared through the air, higher and higher until it seemed to touch the heavens themselves. The spectators held their breath as they watched the ball sail towards the distant pine trees that bordered the outfield.

To everyone's amazement, the ball disappeared among the branches, nestling itself high up in the tallest pine tree. The crowd erupted into a mix of awe and disbelief. Verna had hit her last ball into a pine tree—a feat that no one had ever accomplished before.

The umpire called the play a home run, as the rules stated that any ball stuck in a tree beyond the outfield was considered a hit out of the park. The Cooperstown Hitters won the game, and Verna was hailed as the greatest little league hitter in the history of Cooperstown.

News of Verna's remarkable achievement spread like wildfire. Local newspapers featured her story, and soon, she became a symbol of determination and triumph in the face of adversity. Verna's name was spoken with reverence by aspiring young athletes, and she became an inspiration to children all over the town.

Years later, as Verna grew up and pursued her dreams of being a doctor, she never forgot her roots in Cooperstown. She would return to her hometown, where a monument was erected in honor of her legendary home run. The plaque read, "Verna, the Greatest Little League Hitter, who defied the odds and reached for the sky."

Verna's story continued to inspire generations, reminding them that sometimes, even the seemingly impossible can be achieved through unwavering determination, passion, and a little bit of luck. And every time a ball got lost in the branches of a pine tree, children would smile, knowing that Verna's spirit and love for the game lived on. To this very day, Verna’s ball has never been found, some say it went to heaven.

#CooperstownNewYork #baseball #LittleLeague #girlsLittleLeague #homerun

Warrior.

In the kingdom of courage and grace,

A story unfolds with a heartfelt embrace.

A mother, a wife, a warrior, with strength untold,

Fighting battles within, yet remaining bold.

Amidst life's tapestry, a storm did arise,

Breast cancer's challenge, a painful guise.

But she stands tall, her spirit ablaze,

Determined to conquer, with an unwavering gaze.

Like a phoenix, she rose, from the ashes of fear,

With a heart full of hope, wiping every tear.

Her children, her husband, her anchors, a source of light,

Guiding her through the darkest of nights.

Through endless appointments and medical tests,

She embraces each moment, never losing zest.

Chemotherapy's dance, a painful waltz,

Yet she dances with resilience, defying all false.

Radiation beams, like a celestial fight,

Illuminating her path, as she holds on tight.

In the face of adversity, she finds her grace,

Radiating strength, with a mother's embrace.

Her battle may be fierce, her journey long,

But her spirit, unbreakable, forever strong.

So let the winds carry this message so true,

Her battle may be fierce, her journey long,

But her spirit, unbreakable, forever strong.

Through the storm, she emerges, a warrior anew,

A mother's love, a force that can't undo.

Through the trials and pain, you shall prevail,

For love's power, no force can assail.

A tribute to a friend and anyone fighting the fight.

#STORY & Gloves created by #FrankGCaruso

#Breastcancer #cancersurvivor #cancer #Chemotherapy

My Wish For children.

I was part of a crew today filming graduation in my hometown. As I look through the crowd of parents, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, neighbors, and friends. I have these thoughts for the children of the world.

Many hearts today are full of love and concern for the children who are about to step into the vast world before them. They know that their journey will be filled with challenges, triumphs, joys, and sorrows.

I hope that these children are surrounded with light, that will Illuminate their path and grant them clarity of mind and discernment as they make decisions that will shape their futures. May they be filled with wisdom, courage, and resilience to face any obstacles that may come their way. Give them the strength to persevere in the face of adversity and the determination to pursue their dreams with passion and dedication. Shield them from harm, both physical and emotional. Guard their hearts and minds, and help them discern between right and wrong. Protect them from the influence of negativity, peer pressure, and harmful temptations. Surround them with positive role models and supportive communities that will nurture their growth and guide them towards paths of Hope.

That these children have a deep sense of compassion, empathy, and love for others. May they be a beacon of kindness in the world, spreading joy and bringing comfort to those they encounter. I hope they have many opportunities to embrace diversity, to celebrate differences, and to treat every individual with respect and dignity.

May these children find purpose and fulfillment in their lives, using their unique gifts and talents to make a positive impact on the world. Grant them success in their endeavors, not just for personal gain, but for the betterment of society.

#Graduation #FrankGCaruso

Oak Leaf Named Henry.

A few days ago I picked up some shredded bark and in the bark was this tiny green oak leaf. This is the story that came to me. #STORY & #Photo by #FrankGCaruso

Nestled amidst towering oak trees, there lived a young green oak leaf named Henry. He was vibrant and full of life, eagerly awaiting the arrival of autumn when he would showcase his true colors to the world. Henry dreamed of transforming into a magnificent shade of golden amber, bringing warmth and beauty to the forest floor.

But destiny had different plans in store for him. One day, as the wind whispered through the branches, Henry felt an inexplicable urge to explore beyond the familiar confines of his home tree. Curiosity bubbled within him, and he longed to venture into the unknown.

With a leap of faith, Henry detached himself from the safety of his branch and embraced the exhilarating dance of the breeze. He sailed through the air, marveling at the beauty of the forest from a new perspective. The world unfolded before him, teeming with wonders he had never before laid eyes upon.

Days turned into weeks, and Henry journeyed far and wide, embracing each new landscape with wide-eyed wonder. But as autumn began to paint the forest in hues of gold and crimson, Henry's heart sank. He realized that he had left home before he could show his true colors. The emerald green that had adorned him since birth was still intact, untouched by the magic of the season.

Regret washed over Henry, and a sense of longing tugged at his leafy heart. He yearned to return to his home tree, to join his fellow leaves in their glorious transformation. But the forest seemed vast and unfamiliar now, and Henry feared he had strayed too far to find his way back.

As the days grew colder, a melancholy settled upon him. The once-exciting adventure now felt like a bittersweet journey tinged with the sadness of missed opportunities. Henry wondered if he would ever experience the joy of revealing his vibrant autumn hues.

Yet, just when hope began to wane, a familiar scent tickled Henry's senses. It was the comforting aroma of his home tree, beckoning him with an embrace of familiarity. Following his instincts, Henry navigated through the forest, guided by the distant echoes of falling leaves and whispers of his kin.

At long last, Henry found himself back at the foot of his beloved oak tree. His heart soared with relief and joy as he reunited with his leafy companions. But he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment for missing out on his autumn transformation.

However, as the forest welcomed winter's gentle touch, something magical happened. Henry discovered that he had not missed his chance after all. In the cold embrace of winter, the emerald green of his leaf began to fade, revealing delicate veins of gold and amber beneath. The colors shone brilliantly against the snowy backdrop as if nature herself had saved this special moment for him.

Henry's heart swelled with gratitude and awe. He had thought his journey was in vain, but now he realized that every step he took, every landscape he discovered, had shaped him into something even more extraordinary. His journey had been his own unique metamorphosis, an inner transformation that surpassed the changing colors of his exterior.

From that day forward, Henry embraced the beauty of his journey and the wisdom it had bestowed upon him. He no longer yearned for what could have been, for he knew that life's true colors were not just in the vibrant leaves of autumn but in the experiences and accepting who you were born to be. And as he shared his tale with his fellow leaves, they marveled at the beauty that shone through Henry, the green oak leaf who left home before he could show his true colors.

#truecolors #borntobe

On The Road Somewhere In America.

On the road somewhere in #America with a forgotten America. The lost #retailgrocery store remembers.

We strode down the open aisles together marveling over all the amazing items that would now be considered, well-limited.

The sunbeam light of the architecture brilliant in color would guide us down aisle 2. I can still hear Tony The Tiger yelling. "They're grrreat!" Even Lucky Charms chiming in “They’re Magically Delicious!” Yeah, you could say those were magical times.

#FrankGCaruso #groceryshopping #grocerylist #grocerystores #grocery #Luckycharms #Captaincrunch #MomPopBusinessOwnersDay

Food Love.

In the sizzling cast-iron pan's embrace,

A symphony of flavors, a heavenly chase.

Where New York strip steaks find their glory,

Dancing with garlic, butter, olive oil, and rosemary.

The city that never sleeps, New York's delight,

Where culinary wonders ignite the night.

A feast awaits, where desire is the guest.

First, the pan gleams with a radiant heat,

As garlic whispers secrets, its fragrance discreet.

Olive oil's golden shimmer brings life anew,

Preparing the stage for a succulent debut.

The butter melts, like silk caressing the stage,

Adding richness and allure, the perfect marriage.

With a crackle, the steaks embrace the fiery pan,

Searing their flesh, as flavors begin their grand plan.

Rosemary joins the party, a fragrant affair,

Her herbal touch infuses the air.

She sprinkles magic upon each tender slice,

Elevating the steak to a savory paradise.

The cast-iron conductor conducts the heat's song,

As juices release, a symphony prolonged.

Caramelization paints a crust, golden-brown,

Locking in flavors, So raise your forks, in this city sublime,

And indulge in each bite, a taste that's prime,

For in New York strip steaks, a culinary delight,

A poem of flavors, written with every bite.

#Steaks provided by JL Richards Prime Meats and Catering prepared by #daughter

devoured by guest #Photo and #STORY by #FrankGCaruso #NewYorkstrip #foodlove #Steak #beef #castironpan #rosemary, #butter #oliveoil #garlic

My Field of Dreams Remembered.

So last night the kids around the neighborhood gathered in the cul-de-sac to play baseball and boy did that take me back.

The memories of the cul-de-sac baseball team. The cul-de-sac was the perfect place for a bunch of neighborhood kids to gather and play baseball during those warm summer days. Let me paint a picture of those nostalgic times for you.

The team was made up of a diverse group of youngsters, each with their unique skills and personalities. There was Billy, the charismatic team captain with a knack for hitting home runs. Lorrie was the speedy outfielder who could catch any ball that came her way. Joey, the youngest member, was full of energy and always eager to prove himself. And of course, there were many others, each contributing their talents to the team.

We would gather at the end of the cul-de-sac, where we had marked out our makeshift baseball diamond. The bases were spray-painted on the asphalt, It wasn't perfect, but it was our field, and we loved it.

We played with a mixture of old and new equipment. Some kids had proper gloves and bats, while others made do with whatever they could find. It didn't matter though, because we were there to have fun and enjoy the game.

The games were intense and competitive but also filled with laughter and camaraderie. We would cheer each other on, high-five after a good play, and console each other after a strikeout or an error. The joy of playing together overshadowed any mistakes or shortcomings.

Sometimes, the older kids would pitch, while the younger ones took turns at bat. We played by our own rules, with a focus on fairness and inclusion. It didn't matter if you were the star player or still learning the basics; everyone had a chance to play and contribute to the team.

When I was able to hit the ball, my dog, Misty ran with me. It felt like our little cul-de-sac transformed into a mini baseball stadium, and we were the stars of the show.

As the sun began to set, we would wrap up our games, tired but happy. We would walk back home with dusty shoes and big smiles, already looking forward to the next game.

Those memories of the cul-de-sac baseball team hold a special place in my heart. They were a reminder of the simple joys of childhood, the power of friendship, and the thrill of playing the game we loved. I guess it is true. If you build it, they will come.

#Story prompted by the neighbourhood kids as remember by #FrankGCaruso

#Baseball #Fieldofdreams #kids #neighborhood

Going Back In Time.

On my journey today, this field took me back in time.

#Photo and #STORY by #FrankGCaruso

In the golden fields where dreams were sown,

I, a child, with boundless energy known,

Would race through the farmer's land untamed,

A symphony of joy that can't be named.

Beneath the azure sky, so vast and high,

I'd spread my wings, like a bird on a fly,

The golden grasses whispered 'neath my feet,

As I danced through nature's rhythmic beat.

Oh, the farmer's field, my haven divine,

Where innocence and freedom intertwine,

With each bounding step, my heart took flight,

In the tapestry of nature's pure delight.

I'd chase the wind, my companion true,

As the sun's warm kisses bathed me anew,

The scent of the wind filled the air,

As I weaved through nature's tapestry fair.

With laughter bubbling like a crystal spring,

I'd chase the butterflies on vibrant wing,

Through the meadows, I'd skip and hop,

Like a tiny dancer who'd never stop.

The old oak tree would stand tall and wise,

Witness to my escapades, my childish cries,

And as I ran, I'd imagine I could touch the sky,

Reaching for dreams that seemed oh-so-high.

Oh, how I long for those fleeting days,

When life was simple in innocent ways,

Running in the farmer's field, wild and free,

Oh, how I wish I could still be that child, me.

But now I stand, a grown-up in this land,

With memories of running, held in my hand,

Though time has passed and years have flown,

In my heart, the farmer's field remains my own.

For when life grows heavy, and my spirit feels worn,

I close my eyes, and in my mind, I am reborn,

Running through the field, as a child once more,

Where dreams and freedom forever endure.

#farmer Thank you

I Understand What Happiness Is.

#Photo #memories and #Pizza made by #daughter and #FrankGCaruso

Making pizzas with my daughters, our hearts forever tethered.

When they were younger, their eyes twinkling with delight,

We'd gather 'round the countertop, an enchanting sight.

Tiny hands covered in a dusting of flour,

Their laughter echoed, a melody we would devour.

We'd start with dough, kneading and stretching with care,

Their little fingers dancing, a culinary affair.

Each gentle press, a shared moment of creation,

As we built the foundation, a pizza's humble formation.

Saucy smiles adorned their faces so sweet,

They'd spread the marinara, their touch oh so neat.

Tomatoes transformed into a vibrant sea of red,

With giggles and chatter, our pizza dreams spread.

Next came the toppings, a feast for the senses,

An array of flavors, each one leaving impressions.

They'd scatter cheese like fluffy clouds in the sky,

And the aroma that filled the air made us sigh.

Olives, mushrooms, pepperoni and cheese galore,

We'd pile them high, embracing the toppings' encore.

Each choice a reflection of their growing tastes,

An edible canvas where memories were traced.

The oven's warmth enveloped us like a hug,

As we patiently waited, excitement growing like a bug.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, the anticipation would rise,

Until finally, our masterpiece met our hungry eyes.

We'd gather 'round the table, a family united,

Savoring the flavors, hearts joyfully ignited.

With every bite, love infused each slice,

Our pizza Caruso, a moment so nice.

Years have passed, and my daughters have grown,

But the magic we shared in the kitchen is never disowned.

Through laughter and stories, we continue the tradition,

Creating pizzas with love, an everlasting connection.

For in those doughy moments, time stands still,

And we're transported back, our hearts to fill.

Making pizzas with my daughters, a bond unbroken,

A reminder of love, forever spoken.