On a clear, crispy winter morning, I’d just finished taking pictures of hoar frost. Fairyland stuff. I’m trying to do what feels right. And you? Are you walking each day? Learning how to knit? Adding kale to your smoothies? Before…
On a clear, crispy winter morning, I’d just finished taking pictures of hoar frost. Fairyland stuff. I’m trying to do what feels right. And you? Are you walking each day? Learning how to knit? Adding kale to your smoothies? Before…
I was first to get up this morning, which meant it was my job to start the coffee. I pushed the button on the brewer, then washed a few dishes. Minutes later, I smelled coffee. Such a wonderful smell. I…
The weather is the biggest show on earth. It engages everyone. Best of all, admission is free and good seats are plentiful. Plus, no commercials. And it runs 24/7. To some though, the weather is just something to be tolerated.…
I invite you to pause and ponder for a moment… Why do you get up in the morning? Why do you volunteer at the animal shelter?
If plants could talk, the Peace Rose could tell a tale as gripping as a World War II spy novel…
I have a confession: I’m learning how to play the harp. At age 62, no less. While practicing in the window seat that overlooks the bay, self-doubt often sneaks in, and I wonder, “Good grief, will I ever be a…
On Christmas morning, my sister sent me a photo from her iPhone. Not unusual, right? But when I tapped the screen, I froze and stared at my phone in wonder. In the center of the photo was the silhouette of…
The glow from a small porch light defined my coordinates on the globe: A trampled patch of snow, the size of a manhole cover, located between a sliding glass door and an outhouse ‘privacy’ tent.
It was 8 PM and I’d been trying all day to photograph snowflakes. But try as I might, the wind was howling and I could only “harvest” bits and pieces blown off the roof.
For health reasons, Marty and I recently adopted a plant-based diet, a personal story I share in this post. No more animal protein (meat, dairy, eggs) or processed oils. Suddenly the cookbooks I’d consulted for 40 years were no longer