after the storm — the wind thrashing and writhing in the trees, a seizure of electric power — after all this, the raindrops shiver on the window screens… the sky beds down for the night. ❤
Tag: meditative
just a little Friday-morning musing …
If you want to see the beauty… Look up: ❤
The Sunshine State, in Black & White
For a long time now, I’ve had a special place in my heart for Florida. I spent summers there as a kid, tearing around on a bike near the mangroves, coming alive in the steamy green heat. It’s a nostalgic place for me, and like most nostalgic places, it strikes me as beautiful. But. Florida’s […]
The Quiet Blogger: Day 1
Can I tell you a secret? Over the past 24 hours, I’ve changed my phone number … and my legal name. I’ve registered a new web domain, taken ((my own!)) professional headshot, and spent a lot of time brainstorming, scribbling, explaining and dreaming. Let’s just say that there are **a lot** of changes in […]
Sleepless, Under Shooting Stars {a Flashback}
If I’ve managed to convey one thing in my little series about insomnia, I hope you know this: insomnia is hard … but also, it can be pretty special. Few words capture this better than the ones below, which I wrote just after the night of my ninth wedding anniversary. It’s one of my favorite posts … I […]
magic on the sidewalk …
This weekend, I dare you to believe something radical: Every day, the world tosses magic at your feet. And I could try to write a long treatise to convince you that’s true… Or I could just show you this series of photos, which are literally just shots of chipped concrete and a few stray weeds […]
I can’t stop seeing stardust on our skin …
“People travel to wonder at the height of the mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long course of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars …and yet they pass by themselves without wondering.” — St. Augustine I’ve got a thing for ordinary […]
what we were meant for …
A memory: I am just a girl, with one skinny arm thrust from the car window. The hand cupped to cut the air: lifting. I am too young, then, to have learned Bernoulli’s Principle, or to have heard the word “airfoil.” But still, my palm curls into the wind, without needing an explanation. Without knowing […]
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