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

 - May Sarton


a sweet and simple tuesday






Maira Kalman! Whenever I see her name I pay attention. I saw her exhibition Various Illuminations (of a Crazy World) both here and and in New York and I'm equally charmed by her unique perspective and whimsical illustrations. I came across this video on Brain Pickings, to which I subscribe weekly and always find of great interest.



Hoping your summer days are some of your very favorite! 









Summer afternoons in the garden with Rave, something cold to sip - the current rotation is asian pear and ginger kombucha, pineapple blueberry iced tea or pellegrino with slivers of tangerine and lime - and something to read until we begin to doze in the shadows and life is sweet and all is well.


uncommon nocturne


 Tonight the hovering aluminum moon

listens to your orbiting thoughts

the way you listened 

to canyon echoes

in childhood,

transfixed and entranced.


The North Star looks you in the eye

finding each of your thousand selves,

the hollowed and diverted

the hopeful and enriched,

as glorious as its own reflection.


The murmuring waves of midnight

are as familiar as your own 

undulating heartbeat.


The tide, as if it were

your last quiet breath

in the life before this one

when answers finally revealed

themselves and your spirit

soared back before time

diaphanous and undistilled,

a constellation of its own.


so much happiness *





At the shore:

the same fisherman each day; white hair, red eyeglasses, wearing a yarmulke and chest waders

fingerprint sized sand dollars, the rarest still intact

a trail of discarded, sea soaked sunflowers

a pod of acrobatic dolphins cavorting in the waves

the small pleasure of flying a colorful kite on a blue sky day

twilight's translucent sailboats like sheets of vellum as they drift back to the marina

two labradors laughing, I'm quite sure, as they clamber from pier to pier

a treasure trove of tottering sand castles adorned with delicate seashells

* so much happiness


When you die, God and the Angels will hold you accountable

for all the pleasures you were allowed in life

that you denied yourself.

- Roger Housden

Roger Housden here on the pleasure of not being perfect...


a kitchen always feels like home

This afternoon I am at the kitchen table with a bowl of watermelon and a mug of vanilla jasmine tea, writing a few letters and working on cajoling a poem into form. The windows are open and an occasional spry breeze tosses an envelope from the stack beside me onto the floor. I've scratched out a packing list of things to take for an upcoming trip to Arizona to see my mom and have finished up the last bit of laundry, the air still holding the fragrant scent of lavender. 

The warmth and hospitality of a kitchen often makes me linger, long after meals have been served and the dishes cleared. I am happy I will soon be in the familiar kitchen of my mother's house, my childhood home. We will celebrate her eighty-five years over good food, laughter, and clusters of fond rememberings.

* I love this magnetic poem on the fridge left by my friend Brooke.