Seasonal Shift

I move my morning basket from beside the wing chair in the living room where I have watched the sky in all her splendour declare the glory every morning, to the den. Now, and through the dark months ahead, I’ll greet the day there, on the leather sofa under a Sherpa blanket. Cozy. In solitude

Wet. Gray.

It’s wet. And gray. But there’s something about the formation of the clouds. And the shade of the green grass. Barefoot, I step out on the deck with my phone to capture the moment. This particular gray and green is for this time alone. This morning silence is manna for this moment only. A photo

El Roi

Some things hit me like a punch in the gut and the terrible seems far bigger and louder than the beautiful. Other times, I lean in, look closely at something small and quiet and easily missed and there I find wonder that washes me in peace. I don’t subscribe to the theory that if I

A Thought

A thought tumbles in the deep place where thoughts toss and turn for a time before they are fully formed—before they transform from intangible to action—and I think it is the whisper of God drawing my attention to something in need of attention. That’s how it works. Sometimes. Other times the divine comes knocking in

Unplugged

Over the course of one twenty-four-hour period, between the two of us, five Zoom calls take place in our home. Necessary, some of them; productive, a few of them; but when I realize what has crept into this sanctuary I want to scream “Stop!” How easily busyness invades our space before we even realize it’s

Takeaways

What if the thing I carry with me today is the delight I took in seeing slivers of moonlight reach through the blinds and come to rest on the grey vinyl plank floor in my den? Or the sound my pen makes as it glides across a page in my notebook? Or the comfort of