I shiver in the late June wind, Who knew I would be wearing my corduroy over shirt. I was swimming only a week ago, but today is made for walking, and walking it will be, along the rocky coast here in Maine, the rocky coast that has comforted me for the past thirty some odd years. Ah how fortunate we are to have rocks, especially to those of us who know how well they keep secrets, filing them away in precise rock alphabet order, just in case one needs to visit them in a year

To own nothing, to simplify, to return to a dream full of love and freedom I looked around me, at the yard I call mine, the trees I call mine, the squirrels I call mine and even the pesky groundhog, who demolished my new azaleas, I call mine. I know this precious landscape, this house, I call mine, are but gifts on loan, as is this body, this very flesh, with all it’s molecules, and highways of nerves, rivers of tears, and lakes of laughter, and even the blood clots, calling

Maine in May is unpredictable, so yes, it's like every other month in Maine weather men are often a day late, a rainy day ends in sunshine and rainbows strong winds can keep even the saltiest of swimmers on shore. and restaurants can be closed at a moment's notice, because people matter more than prices. but for now, brilliant dandelions spread their magic across the grass as I wait for three consecutive sunny days to paint my front doors. the color? you ask? why, Mustard See