When the sun shines again

after many days of rain, everything

looks, feels, and smells fresh and new.

March: Day Twenty-five

I awaken to the sound of the birds

rustling in the bushes beneath 

my bedroom window, their 

chirps soft as a whisper.

Wake up, little ones, 

I imagine they are saying,

and in that moment, I include

myself in their family.

Sometimes - often - my first thoughts

upon awakening are fear for 

what the day might bring.

The sweet sounds of these little birds, 

well-hidden in the bush but

still vulnerable to all out there

that might do them harm, 

awakening nevertheless with

such sweet chatter, softens my fear, 

and I arise to greet the day with them. 

March: Day Eighteen

 

A garden is not just an arrangement of

flowers, it is a peek into the creative soul

of the gardener, their hopes and dreams

and what they loved.

March: Day Twelve

Dark Clouds over Sedona

September 2017

Often, I do not think that I am

up to what is being asked of me

So all I can do is keep going and 

do my best and sometimes

it's not very good but it's

all that I can do.

And surprisingly often, it

somehow turns out to be enough.

March: Day Nine

Just enough

is all I need

enough work

enough play

enough to live on

and still be generous

enough time alone

and enough time with friends

enough fresh air 

and sunshine

enough sleep

and enough exercise 

enough coffee and croissants

just enough of everything

and not too much of

anything

Just enough

March: Day Five

Two days ago

I raked away the oak leaves

piled at the bottom of 

a small tree in the front yard

and today that little tree

has sprouted sweet

yellow blooms.

I do not know that I

can claim credit,

but secretly 

I do.

March: Day One

 

Whispers of Spring

A shift of light 

through branches bare

the difference slight

 yet surely there

The birdsong's cheer

 a bit more bright

the sky more clear,

the air feels light

I have no proof of anything,

yet, sure I'm not imagining

that Mother Earth is whispering,

Soon Spring

Soon Spring

Soon Spring

February: Day Twenty-five

Monument Valley

September 2017

Accept

Bless

Release

Surrender

Accept

Bless 

Release 

Surrender

Accept

Bless 

Release

Surrender

February: Day Twenty-three

Beaumaris, Anglesey, Wales

September 2012

I am in a place called limbo,

where it seems like nothing 

is happening and yet,

I have a feeling that somehow,

everything is happening

and I just haven't gotten

the memo,

and suddenly, sometime soon,

nothing

will be the same, 

like when

the Berlin Wall came down

and we never saw it coming.

February: Day Twenty-two

If I knew that I would die today,

or soon,

I would not worry about

where to live, or

the view from my window,

or the fallen branches in the yard,

or money.

I would let it be all right

to watch the birds at the feeder,

and talk to them, and thank them

for coming, to pick up the branches

and lay them gently in a pile

at the side of the yard,

and go down to the sea,

take off my shoes, and walk

barefoot in the sand, even though

it is February,

and say

thank you, thank you, thank you,

for everything.

February: Day Twenty-one

There is something delicious

in yearning, in longing,

in that slightly discontented, 

slightly tingly impatience

that is anticipation.

So often I have tried to soothe - 

even to extinguish - 

my longing 

with getting, having, 

achieving, going, 

doing - 

only to find myself

missing the anticipation 

and yearning

to yearn

again

 

February: Day Twenty

Happy Birthday, Dad

In his element

2/20/1923 - 10/31/2009

 

February: Day Eighteen

Last night the wind roared

like the ocean

and we lost power and I feared

for the house to go cold

and pipes to freeze and

all manner of catastrophes to follow,

and prayed for the wind to die down, while

memories of a different storm welled up,

one that pounded for hours and

nearly took our roof,

and anxious thoughts swirled and

made my heart catch on every beat

as I repeated please stop, please stop,

but the house was solid against the wind 

and we huddled beneath extra blankets 

for warmth and then, suddenly,

the light came on and, finally, I slept.

It's morning now and the sun 

is shining and the wind still

roaring but not as threatening 

as in the dark of night,

and a squirrel just scampered

through the front yard

with a mouthful of oak leaves 

and the birds are at the feeder

as if nothing has happened at all

February: Day Fifteen

 

Seeing a tulip bloom

 

on my windowsill

in mid-February

is like

seeing the sun

come out

after a week

of rain

February: Day Twelve

I

 want to walk

in bare feet 

through coarse, thick sand

I want to breathe cool salt air

and feel warm sunshine caress

my face, my body shifting

deliciously between 

cool, warm,

warm, cool

I want to delight

in the antics 

of gulls who

mistakenly think

I might feed 

them, 

their sly approach

and side-eye glances

as if I can't see them

sneaking up on me

I want

the rhythm of waves

to lull me to sleep

in my beach chair

and all knowledge

of the world is

gone and gone and gone

February: Day Ten

Hubbard's Cove, Nova Scotia

July 2012

When the sun comes out

it can feel like

all the lights 

have been turned

back on

February: Day Nine

Awaken this morning

to a snowy landscape 

Open your senses and go outside

Smell the crisp scent of silence

Taste the cold on your tongue

Breathe in the beauty through your eyes

Feel the earth's contented sigh

Hear its joy as it receives 

Mother Nature's gift

February: Day Seven

When I was small

and it snowed

I made a snowball

and went sledding

That's all I want to say

February: Day Five

Near Peggy's Cove, Nova Scotia

2012

What if I greeted

this day with a smile

and the belief that 

something wonderful

will happen

instead of this frown

and a mind busy

with thoughts of

how to ward off

all the things that

might go wrong?

February: Day Three

Perhaps today

it would be all right

to do not much of anything

all day

No one is watching

no one is judging me -

except for me, and

I am giving the

judge the day off

February Day One

Quebec City, outside the Frontenac

August 2012

 I cannot guarantee

that there will not be

catastrophes

I cannot say that 

it will not rain on

my picnic 

or that

tears will not flow

But I do know that today

there is 

love  and friendship

kindness and caring

laughter and sharing

music and dancing

and it is up to

me to open up

the door

and let 

it in

Day Thirty-one

Ocean Point, Boothbay, Maine

June 2012

I like to travel - 

places I've dreamed of 

since small, to see 

and do and learn

but there is nothing in

this world that I love more

than to awaken 

in a place that is

deeply familiar

a place not just that 

I call home

but that 

calls me home

too

Day Thirty

Peggy's Cove 2012

To be able to move is a gift

to have to move can be a chore

moving, moving, moving

forward, back, side to side

dancing, weaving, 

walking, stretching, 

I want to be able

to both move freely

and also stay put

is that so much to ask?

Day Twenty-nine

Sometimes I think

that what we call

patience 

is really just 

barely contained

impatience

Day Twenty-seven

Nova Scotia 2012

It's okay to 

break down every 

once in a while

to say it's too much

because it is too much

whatever it is

no matter how it 

compares to what

anyone else is doing

it's your too much

and it's okay to

feel that

Day Twenty-six

Today,

I am wondering

if the sun will ever

 shine again or if the 

bare and scraggly forsythia bush

outside my kitchen window

will actually bloom in spring

or if, in fact, spring will ever

come at all

I am trying to appreciate

this cold and gray January 

for what it's meant to be - 

a time to rest

a time to wait

as patiently as able, for 

things to come right again -

a test of our faith

that they will

Day Twenty-five

Stonehenge

2012

I do my best

I make a choice

I second-guess

and hear a voice

you've gone astray

and now you're lost

won't find your way

you'll pay the cost

I close my eyes

and take a breath

my body sighs

it's like a death

I do my best

and that is all

that I can do,

God, take the ball

I'm trusting you

Day Twenty-four

Nova Scotia, 2012

I feel the circle closing,

the tips of the lines nearly

touching now to form a

perfect ring and not

a meandering squiggle,

coming full circle,

as they say

and I am wondering,

when the ends meet

and the circle closes,

does that mean it's over?

Or is there a surge

of power as

the energy at last

flows unimpeded

and I, finally, 

begin?

Day Twenty-two

Monument Valley 2017

once we were young

    we rode our bikes

        and swam wild 

we hoped and dreamed

    and imagined  love

        and a life with purpose

a whole lifetime later

    the sound of bagpipes

        soars across the snow

            and echoes off the stones

a plaque on a marble box

    inscribed with a name

        and sprinkled with holy water

            a moment of silent prayer

Dear Andy,

    we shared ourselves

        for what seemed then like forever

            because a lifetime seemed so long

                but now seems like just a moment

                    no one knew us like we knew us

                        thank you for being my friend

July 2, 1955 - January 13, 2025

   

Day Twenty

You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.

~ Martin Luther King

Japanese Tea Garden, San Antonio, Texas

May 2012

you have a right to love 

what you love.

you matter.

you belong.

you do not have to apologize 

for wanting what you what

you do not have to grovel 

or beg for forgiveness

you do not have to try 

so hard

just show up

and love what you love

you matter.

you belong.

Day Nineteen

 

Ile d'Orleans, Quebec, Canada

August, 2012

I am just  a caretaker

I own nothing

or at least

whatever I think

I own 

is really just

on loan

So

I will take

good care

of what has been

entrusted to me

for this 

little while that

I am here

Day Sixteen

Monument Valley 

September 2017

It can seem 

like nothing is

happening,

the changes you

long for

never arriving

but then,

suddenly,

you are

on the move 

and you don't 

even know

how it happened.

Day Fifteen

Fort Pickens Beach, Pensacola, Florida

When I was young

I had a friend - 

a best friend - 

which is something

much more than

just a friend,

because we shared

the best of who

we were and 

who we

might become

 

Day Fourteen

Old Silver Beach, Falmouth, Massachusetts, November 2025

Do you worry

that you missed the tide

that would have made 

your life the way 

it was supposed to be

and now all is lost 

because once the tide has 

gone it will never 

come again?

Go to the sea

and watch the tide

roll in

and out

and again

and again

and again

You are not meant

to ride every wave

and you can't know

which wave is the 

one that lifts you up

or the one that knocks you

down

but the tide 

keeps sending

you waves

and any time you like

you can simply 

choose to

dive in

and ride

Day Thirteen

Beaumaris, Wales 2012

Do not stop dreaming

just because you 

have grown older, 

or weary

Sit quietly

and feel your breath

wash through you

When 

you breath in

invite your dreams

to show themselves

and notice what

feelings come

That's how

you will know

which dreams

are meant 

for you

now

When 

you breathe out

set free

an old dream

that no longer

fits

Day Twelve

Santa Fe Ski Area 2011

Yesterday it snowed

and I awoke in the night

worried about shoveling

the drive and slipping

on ice

but this morning

the squirrels are 

chasing each other

around the tree trunks

like children playing tag

and I think

they have

the right 

idea

Day Eleven

Peggy's Cove, Nova Scotia 2012

Every thought

is not

a poem

and

and every photo 

is not

a magazine cover

but 

sometimes

it's about

just

showing up

Day Ten

Chester, Nova Scotia 2012

Is there anything

more hopeful 

than a huddle

of boats ?

There is 

too much 

beauty still

in this world

to not be 

hopeful

Day Nine

Ile d'Orleans, Quebec, Canada 2012

I have been 

searching

for a place 

but I realized

that I have been

longing

for a feeling

of something

remembered 

but just beyond 

my reach

Day Eight

Baie St. Paul, Charlesvoix, Quebec, Canada 2012

When I was small

I found tiny violets

peaking out from the 

vines that grew 

by the side of the road

and I don't

know that I

have ever been 

quite so delighted 

by anything

since

Day Seven

 

Hubbard's Cove, Nova Scotia 2012

My soul 

is a

secret garden

that I must tend

lovingly

so that 

it will bloom

even in winter

Day Six

Bourne Farm, Falmouth, Massachusetts 2024

Today the world 

looks black and white

and I could feel sad

and melancholy

But I picture 

bulbs, 

and roots,

beneath the soil,

gathering strength

from the earth

and imagine that 

I, too,

am a bulb,

or a root,

invisibly renewing 

my energy

so that I can 

bloom again.

Day Five

Bourne Farm, Falmouth, Massachusetts 2012

Today the sky is gray

and the wind bites at my cheeks

Even the birds have not ventured out

I take wisdom in that

Remembering 

that I do not have to make progress

every day

Today, I can go back inside

and rest

Day Four

Bass Harbor, Acadia National Park, Maine 2014

Doubt creeps in

What if I am

going the wrong way?

Should I 

Keep going?

Go left? Or right?

Turn back?

Pause

Breathe

Look around

Simply choose

There are no wrong roads.

DAY THREE

Central Street, Andover, Massachusetts

Take two steps

Pause.

Look behind

See the footprints

already in your wake

A path begun.

Look ahead

You are on your way

Day Two

Bourne Farm, Falmouth, Massachusetts 2024

One step

Don't think

Just step

You're in

Next step

Don't think

Just step

Path begins

(Breathe in, Breathe out)

First Day

Bass Harbor, Acadia National Park, 2018

First light

New day

First day

New year

First breath

Fresh hope

Breath in

Breath out