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…

Here I am, standing on top of the teeter-totter. The wooden plank beneath my feet is even, and I'm in the middle,..

It's the beginning of August, and as always, the thickness has crept in. It's right on time.

Seeing that magnificent black bird fly off to the top of the pine tree with a red Twizzler…

Some believe 222 is a message of hope, harmony, commitments, compromise, and trust.

There aren't many places that have been consistently a part of my life.

Dare I call this all mine?
I feel like it's borrowed space—a place to live, love, and care for while I'm here.

Nothing to do is what I wanted.
It feels peaceful.
It's raining, and I'm sitting on the porch sipping my cup of black coffee…

Since I have lived in this house, there has been a woodchuck who lives beside the garage. The hole he has made is gigantic. I mow around it and never get too close as I am sure that it would swallow me up.

I know how wild and out-of-control things can get if you don't cut back those odd pieces that aren't working anymore.

I knit a blanket for my Mother for Christmas. I picked colors and Italian wool that reminded me of her and stayed up late knitting (and sometimes re-knitting) the rows.

A while ago, I told Lily that we were at our pet limit. No more animals. But she didn’t listen…