I'm lucky enough to have family with property on one of the gorgeous lakes in upstate New York, and I was there over Memorial Day weekend. Guess who the special guests were?

The oak tree is full of dried brown leaves. 
We have a foot of snow; 
the wind has been howling, 
yet they stay attached. 

A daily walk turned magical when I spotted six red-bellied woodpeckers gathered in a sycamore tree.

I don't write much about politics, as I prefer to connect with you through nature, art, and the silly antics of our backyard birds, but this feels too big not to mention.

It's all quiet next door. It feels like the house is taking a breath, waiting for the next family to fill it up with kids, toys, dogs, tears, and laughter.

I stopped at the trail's end, where the soft ground ended and the pavement began. It was also where someone might have seen me flailing about...

Within these past 100 days, I returned to work full-time, the seasons changed, and my project is featured in a local magazine. I am still determining when it became apparent that What the Duck evolved to pull my other unfinished pieces together and fill in the blanks to my next book, The Art of Leaving.

The 2024 100 Day Project begins this Sunday, February 18th, and this is me officially announcing my project. I wasn't sure if I was up for doing it this year, and honestly, I'm still trying to figure it out, BUT I will start and see what happens. 
My project is titled "What the Duck". 
Why "What the Duck"?

I am just daydreaming about what I would love the year ahead to look like…

When filling out my 2023 calendar in January, I flipped to the back and wrote this on December 1st:

The sounds of summer are different this morning. Is it less bright or perky? I don't know what the right word is. It sounds slower, like even the buzz of the cicada is tired and lazy.

I couldn't believe my eyes, and once again, I was shocked at how naive I was…

Everywhere I look, the conversation I am having and everything I read or listen to is nudging me to think about peace and boundaries.

It fills my heart, breaks my heart, energizes me, and drains me. It forces me to see pieces of myself that I don't like but can change.

I'm glad my Mom saved our schoolwork throughout the years. It's neat to look back and see that I have mostly stayed the same.

Like me, on a Monday morning, they aren't ready to wake up yet; just five more minutes, please.

They are whispering the same messages…

So close
to you
so still

I did it again. I went shopping yesterday for a pair of jeans. I do this every couple of years, fully aware that I am about to take my pants off…