The Journey

Legs fully extended, scraggly tail parallel to the earth, the lean body of a coyote races down the darkened street in front of me. His speed is both terrifying and inspiring, a figure of movement and grace. Intent on some unseen prey, he does not see me in the shadows...

I find it difficult to listen to the needs of the heart during the day. All the chattering of the mind. All the clutter of to-do lists. All the weight of responsibility. But dawn . . . well that is a very different story . . .A brush of light the size of a thimble is...

When I reflect on 2012, I want to remember peering through the lens of a camera and falling in love with Ireland; holding hands with Rubin in the cockpit of our sailboat, listening to the calls of loons echoing across the Canadian waters of the North Channel;...

My prayers fly across the dry desert wash, soaring up the ragged tops of the Catalina Mountains until finally touching the pink whisper of dawn. I pray to the spirits of all the great women who have gone before me that they might provide me insight, compassion,...

A man died Sunday morning, October 7, 2012. He was a man of many names. Harry. Honey. Dad. Grandpa. Thomas. Professor. Coach. Even Mr. VIP. But to me, he will always be “my dad.” In a sixty year relationship, it is a relatively new name defining my relationship with...

As I lean against the wooden railing of the viewing platform eyeing the small dune perched on top a cliff of moraine, I ponder the legend of Sleeping Bear. Created by Native Americans, the story describes a bear and her two cubs, fleeing a raging fire on the other...

“The only people who live north in the winter are people who have never lived south,” my husband tells the world when gale force winds sweep across the lake, snow stinging the eyes of anyone walking the beach. That, of course, would be me. Occasionally, Rubin joins me...

Life's transitions remind me of a caterpillar dangling in a cocoon of darkness. It takes faith to believe one can emerge and spread one's wings in a flurry of color before finally soaring above all doubts, all fears, all heartache.

My Reader Sitting on my front porch, feet curled up on the edge of the chair, knees scrunched against my chest, I am rocking.  I can feel the cool breeze off the lake, hear the wind rustling the dense canopy of leaves overhead, see a few tiny wildflowers peeking...

 Fleeting Moments of Joy It looks as a quilt, patches of thick, coarse cloth pieced together to provide protection. One leaf. Enormous. Alone. I think of a knight, standing proudly, waiting for the princess of his dreams to appear.  I stop daily,...