Now I become myself. It's taken time, many years and places...

 - May Sarton


ocean park


At dusk we walked the dogs in the wet grass, 

our faces caramelized by ocean air.

Cerulean escaped quickly,

a cunning fog wafted in with the darkness.

Ferris wheel lights glowed smoky-romantic on the pier.

"It doesn't get any better than this," you said.

I reached for your hand

as we turned our heads upward.

An open third floor window outlined  

a protagonist consoling a woebegone saxophone.

Entranced we sat in the melody of outstretched nightlight,


Each of us a passing footnote in the story.

Its memory worn around our necks

like a polished rough ruby amulet.


to me new york will always feel like jazz

I returned from the city I know well in the embryonic hours of the morning. Bud swooped me up at the airport into a giant bear hug that felt like home. Today the washing machine is swishing and my brain and heart are swirling with myriad thoughts and experiences of the last few days. I explored the Upper West Side neighborhood we lived in over a decade ago where little remains unchanged. I revisited my favorite cafe; the familiar sound of the juicer and the vibrant orange scent of freshly peeled carrots welcoming me at the door. Hours were spent strolling in Central Park, where my loyal companion and love Jazz and I explored a fair number of the the 843 acres on our daily walks. At our starting point on 97th and Central Park West I took a long breath, opened my heart as wide as I could, and flung a handful of his remains in the air like confetti, the manner I thought he'd most appreciate as the bearer of all things joyful. I visited favorite paintings by Van Gogh, Bonnard, Chagall and Frida Kahlo that perpetually color my senses at The Museum of Modern Art, enjoyed dinner and a Broadway show with a treasured friend who is like a fairy godmother, let time drift by in the lobby at The Algonquin Hotel with my journal, a cappuccino, and Matilda the lobby cat in the chair next to me. I also had the pleasure of meeting my talented friend Brooke for a day of fun and exploration that took us all over the city. She writes about a poetically enchanting subway experience she had here. You will love it.

Today is my exhale.

As for New York City, it is a place apart.

There is not its match

in any other country

in the


- Pearl S. Buck



Guess what? I'm spending a few days in Manhattan and the entire city is abloom!


May your weekend be filled with all that you love. 


these small moments

On a run in the park this week I passed a youngish woman with a Graco stroller of belongings in black garbage bags. I couldn't see her face as she was huddled over her notebook writing intently, in that bubbly cursive script the popular girls had in junior high. She was focused. The words were flowing easily, the way they sometimes do, when the only challenge is to get them on paper as quickly as you can in case the muse vanishes like a magic genie before the final wish is fulfilled. In the glimpse of that small moment I brushed up against hopefulness and connection. I said a silent blessing that her path would be illuminated. I said a silent blessing that she would continue to write.


the omo tribus