Friday, November 27, 2015


Sometimes it is the smallest thing that saves us: the weather growing cold, a child’s smile, and a cup of excellent coffee.

{Jonathan Carroll}

Tuesday, March 31, 2015


I am a closet runner. On my walks in the woods I love to actually run. However, I don't identify myself as a runner and the reason seems like a silly one: I don't wear the running gear.

When I run, I wear a long down coat, a wool hat that doesn't match, tall sheepskin boots, with Yaktrax attached--to prevent slipping, and puffy mittens.

So, because I don't have the trendy running jacket, pants, or shoes, not to mention Smart accessories, I don't identify myself as a runner. I usually go off trail to some location where I can run freely and am not apt to come across a neon green-jacketed, smartly-capped runner. 

When I run I imagine that if I were to catch another person off guard they might think a Sasquatch was running at them. This, of course, makes me laugh hysterically while running, which may make me even scarier to come across!

 Recently, when I shared this story with my friend, she sent me this clip:

I told her, "That's it!"

Only picture all the heavy gear! :)

Wednesday, February 25, 2015


Pileated Woodpecker
“Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won't adhere to any rules. The most any of us can do is to sign on as its accomplice. Instead of vowing to honor and obey, maybe we should swear to aid and abet. That would mean that security is out of the question. The words "make" and "stay" become inappropriate. My love for you has no strings attached. I love you for free.”  

    {Tom Robbins, Still Life with Woodpecker}

Saturday, February 21, 2015


(n): the artistic technique of presenting to audiences common things in an unfamiliar, or strange way, in order to enhance perception of the familiar.

Sunday, February 8, 2015


It was that kind of a crazy afternoon,
terrifically cold, and no sun out
or anything,
and you felt like
you were disappearing
everytime you crossed a road.

{J.D. Salinger}
Catcher in the Rye

Sunday, February 1, 2015


The Walk
My eyes already touch the sunny hill,
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has its inner light, even from a distance –

and changes us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it, we already are;
a gesture waves us on, answering our own wave ...
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

{Rainer Maria Rilke, 1924,Translation, Robert Bly}

Thursday, January 15, 2015


"If I sit in my own place of patience, what I need flows to me, without pain. From this I understand that what I want also wants me, is looking for me and attracting me." {Rumi}

Saturday, January 3, 2015


(adj.) someone with deep sensitivity to the beauty of art or nature 

Thursday, January 1, 2015


Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!
{William Butler Yeats}