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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

I am like the tall dead tree staring at me as I do my morning exercises. All of her youthful beauty now gone, she stands, silently, still surrendering her limbs as a resting place for birds. I stretch my own tired limbs, inviting the day’s life force to lubricate my joints, much like the tin man in the Wizard Of Oz. And we both know that soon enough we will be composted for new life to begin, to be mirrored in the springtime blossoms, the delicate dances of ballerinas, and t

just a thought I was scrubbing the pan I used to cook last night’s dinner it required extra care, and extra soap, as my eyes aren’t what they use to be, it required extra attention. in the foggy morning light. feeling the warm water wash away remnants of the stir-fry dinner all while noticing my back yard crows having stopped by for their breakfast gift of crumbs and peanuts. I had a thought, maybe silly, maybe profound who cares anyway. thoughts are for investigating and p

Wandering But Not Lost I began my Website for The Artist's Haven a few years ago, with simply a site for my Airbnb guests. Over the...

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When Letting Go Is Not Losing In getting old.. great expectations soften, allowing for gentle desires where exuberance for upcoming...

Sure enough it's all a dream. But it's my dream. And I do believe, contrary to popular opinion, there are times, when one holds the...

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“they’re waiting cameras in hand”, said the elm to the maple. “ feel their longing for the grand color reveal”? but what if? what if this...

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I lay unplugged, in what I can only describe as paradise. The sky was almost cloudless, except for one, billowy puff every now and then,...

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Time is running out, so I’ll get right to the point. But after that, I cannot guarantee a direct course through my story. I always...

Coastal Chorus Summer days spin by a whoosh of blues and greens along with braids of seaweed, travelers check in for a respite drop their...

She lived in the woods, and still does for that matter, thankfully, some things don’t change. The following is just one of the many...

notes from a journal almost completed You were birthed from Light and Love, yet your physical beginnings may not reflect this. So when...