Suddenly, it's fall. The world seems to have leaped from August and straight into October. How did it happen? Did I not smile into bright sun just last week? Did I not sit outside at a little cafe, laughing and drinking iced coffee, cherishing every bit of that salt caramel ice cream? Didn't breeze… Continue reading Sudden October
On a bus from Washington to New York, it occurs to me how wonderful this travel thing is for someone who likes to write. What a gift it is to have this block of uninterrupted, precious time. You are enveloped in a soft protected cocoon of time - you step on a bus or a… Continue reading A Writing Bus
The Appalachian Trail. The call of freedom and wildness. Rocks, roots, wild flowers at your feet, tree branches over your head, coming together in a making of a forest Cathedral. Walking the Appalachian Trail is similar to going on a pilgrimage. The Trail is calling to you. Come. Walk the Trail. Separate yourself from all… Continue reading The Appalachian Trail
It is summer night in Old Town. The Market Square is filled with joyful noise, chatter, murmur, splashing and whispering of the fountains, and children's voices raising up in delight. The breeze is moving the flags on the lamp posts and the light seems to be changing every moment, broken, amplified and reflected in… Continue reading A Penny
"We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls." ~Anaïs Nin. Oh, how I love this quote! I'm definitely one of these forever traveling and forever being amazed at my good fortune to be able to discover and experience new lands, new wonders, new people. It's in traveling that… Continue reading Forever Traveling
This picture invited me to take it yesterday in Sky Meadows State Park in Virginia. It was only when I looked at it later on that I realized how much it reminded me of Andrew Wyeth paintings. ... Here are other picture inspired by Wyeth.
Postcards from Acadia Series A cool, early September evening finds me in Bar Harbor, Maine. I come to a little park looking out at a pier and position myself on one of the benches thoughtfully provided, no doubt for specific sunset watching purposes. In front of me, there lies Frenchman Bay: glassy still water; little… Continue reading The Light of Bar Harbor