Important, Not Urgent

Gerry leaves early for a hike and I putter in the kitchen making pasta salad and a big batch of granola. It’s 9:00 when everything’s done, cleaned up, and put away: the time I head down to the woman cave to write. But the sun is shining and it is warm outside. The deck looks

Music

I’m here in my own bed after spending the weekend away, hungry to return to the ordinary. A symphony welcomes the day. The orchestra: a hummingbird buzzing at the feeder outside the open door; the distant sound from the valley of Monday morning start-up; the soft percussion of my husband’s sleeping breath. If we're not supposed

View

  We live on a ridge with an unobstructed view across the valley to the hills on the other side. That view is the first thing I set my eyes upon every morning. Sometimes I get lost in it. From where I sit, sipping soy milky frothy coffee in the comfort of our sleigh bed, I

Simple

I have a propensity to overcomplicate things. Spring reminds me of the wisdom of simplicity. Breathing morning air, spending an hour or so on the deck with a book, puttering in the garden (watering with a nozzle on the hose), these things fill me with gentle joy and gratitude. A simple salad of garden fresh

May Days

The sky this morning is gray, and rain fell during the night. It’s still raining, I suspect, judging by the sweet scent coming in through the open door in our bedroom. It looks much like most of last month looked out there, but it is decidedly different. This particular gray morning comes on the heels

The Season of Wonder

I spend a couple of hours in the garden, pondering, imagining,  making decisions, and tossing tiny seeds in the ground. I’m toting tomato and pepper plants outside every day and bringing them back in the house in the early evening. There are seed packets in my purse, and basil growing in my laundry room. These,

Transported

I spend a silent and solitary day at home: writing, reading, potting flowers, staking tomatoes, and watering plants. But it is that moment when I’m standing barefoot on the grass in the backyard watering the tea garden and breathing in the gentle scent of lilacs that is, perhaps, the sweetest. I drop the hose, walk