• The Possibility of the Impossible

    When the object and the subject of my prayer become one, I can move mountains. I know this to be true, for I have experienced it firsthand. It requires an intensity of focus that is not easy to achieve . . . and only comes with practice. Some call it meditation. But I call it… Continue Reading

  • Cascades of Old-fashioned Creamy Pink Roses

    Tucked away in my memories like old lace in the linen closet are childhood visits to the neighboring farmhouse. Climbing the secret stairs under towering maples, my siblings and I knew to circle round to the back porch in search of chewy oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies and a coveted visit. In June, the perimeter of the… Continue Reading

  • The Visit

    Spring was here, and then. . . it wasn’t. Along with the snow, my older son returned home for a week’s break from college. Let the good times roll! He used to be such a big part of my daily life, but now I sit on the periphery and watch. Sometimes he asks for my… Continue Reading

  • The Pendulum

    Yesterday’s snowdrops lie . . . under a snow drop. Yesterday’s field of elegant beige . . . lies buried beneath a frosted blue haze. Yesterday’s patchwork . . . now shimmers in silver. Yesterday’s stillness . . . is shattered by birdsong. Yesterday’s growth . . . awaits the next thaw. Spring’s early glimmer… Continue Reading

  • Morning Crown

    Snowy morning, frosted shadows, Lacy branches, stillness reigns. Muddy morning, breeze is warming, Rattling call of sandhill crane. Scented morning, red-winged blackbird, Peeper chorus, Spring is here! Barefoot morning, berries bursting, Fledgling summons does appear. Muggy morning, harvest forming, Rainbow colors bright and bold. Misty morning, flowers dwindling, Landscape painted orange and gold. Frosted morning,… Continue Reading

  • Happy Holilays

    December 17, 2015 ‘Tis the green and red season. We are all busy. So very busy blooming in love and good cheer. With so much on my agenda, little things slip by. . . little things that feed my soul. . . like prayer. Who has time? As my soul is robbed of it’s nourishment,… Continue Reading

  • Tea Time

    November 6, 2015 If I could. . . I’d light a crackling fire, sit you down in a comfy chair with your favorite book and a view of the pond out back. I’d crack a window to fill your ears with nature sounds– the meandering leaf-swirling wind, the Caw of a solitary crow. I’d serve you a… Continue Reading