The foggy mist made ringlets of my hair and the clumps of dirt turned to mud under my fingernails as I weeded the walk of clover just after 7:30am. I have always loved those early hours before the sun bakes the earth in the summer or when the stillness of winter’s frozen ground is as silent as the air.
Read MoreGood writing requires time to taste. It begs for fine china and grandmother’s silver and low lighting and most importantly, time - time to read and taste the flavor and to feel the texture of each word. Most written works these days can be read while waiting for the light to change or for the receptionist to call your name. Most works are flavorless, like a meal at a restaurant more known for it’s ocean view or it’s grand ballroom with crystal chandeliers. Have you ever noticed how so many wedding receptions offer guests lackluster food?
Read MoreI have a plant on my counter and it has taught me about life and art and inspiration. I know, it sounds crazy. It’s just a plant. About a year ago I rescued this fine plant from Lowes. It was in the dollar section. Did you know there is a dollar section? I like to visit that lonely corner and rescue plants no one would otherwise purchase. The pot in which it currently resides was 10x the cost of the plant. What can I say, I like to give them a good home. I have watered my plant (fairly) consistently, so it thrives (for the most part).
Read MoreIn today’s world, you are able to surround yourself with whatever you desire. Topics that required great effort to be exposed to twenty years ago have become nearly effortless to experience on a daily basis. We can thank social media for delivering this right to our palms. Although it can be seen as a distraction...a constant distraction…there is an underlying positive element tangled up in the onslaught of words and images.
Read MoreI got a piece of my friend today. It came in the mail disguised as a book of poetry with her name on the cover. When it arrived, I ripped open the envelope with excitement. I jumped in, right into the center, like jumping off a rock into a deep pool of water. It was probably the wrong way to begin. I’m guessing the order of the poems was painstakingly chosen. In any creative work you give birth to, every particle of the thing matters. But I jumped in.
Read MoreThere is something magical about a hay loft. I am not certain what world we enter upon reaching the top of the ladder, but I know that when I'm there everything else falls away. It's a peaceful place that calls you to linger. It sits above the busy action below. I imagine it would be the same if we could sit in clouds, above the hustle and bustle of everyday life. I love being able to take the time to sit in the hayloft. Every season is so different. Today it is raining and the pinging of the raindrops fall on the metal roof making music which echoes in the indoor while the gurgling of the gutters drones on and on.
Read MoreThis morning as I step out of the barn, done with chores, the sun is still hiding and the deep indigo sky stretches out before me from one horizon to the next. That backdrop gives the stars, still bright and dancing, a stage for their performance not yet finished. I lift my chin to see the constellations stuck to the dome of blue, like window clings wrapped to the curve of the atmosphere.
Read MoreWe are easily able to manipulate an impression with a specific image so the viewer never truly is aware of the authentic experience at that moment in time. This is social media.
Read MoreEvery morning I look to the heavens, ink black and forever deep, like a bottomless sea. Only the stars and planets poke bright holes in the darkness creating the heavenly arch and giving the illusion that they wrap around the earth like a blanket. My routine each day is the same. I wake at the same hour and I follow the same path one half hour past waking. My responsibility to my animals is unwavering, steadfast, and pleasant in its predictability.
Read MoreAnd in the blink of an eye they day has come. Abby walked briskly down the walk, backpack in place, ready for high school to begin. Butterflies have set up residence in her stomach, but she is still positive. Her energy sits like an explosion on the head of a pin, controlled and balanced. As a parent we have the knowledge of what comes next. We can remember those high school years of our own. So we sit on the roller coaster, this time in the back seat, watching and quietly waiting all summer as the cars make their way up the first hill.
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