I absolutely love that illusionary line where sky and water meet. Sometimes I think it has something to do with the firmament God created, hovering over water. Sometimes I imagine this as the sacred space where heaven and earth touch. But mostly, it is just beauty.
Not in a million years would I have thought that I would love kayaking so much. I get it now. I’m so stinkin’ grateful to my buddies who encouraged me and the chance to be in this beautiful country. Love to all.
This sweet moment, of seeing raindrops sparkle on an aspen leaf, asked me to consider sharing a simple image. To drop the words – although, here I am collecting and stacking them up again like not-quite-used-up folded paper towels. So I decided to go ahead and share the photo that I call “The Trinity” with plenty of space to honor it’s stand-alone beauty, or if you are curious, to add just a few more words.
Continue reading Friday Love Notes from Colorado
Sometimes, a moment brings joy I could not have imagined.
Yesterday, with Les just across the table from me, and gentle breezes and soft keystrokes the only sound around us, I paused.
“Can it really get any better than this?” I thought. “This silent companioning of being lost in our own worlds of writing in this beautiful place?”
These are the good days. The good moments. Thank you.
While visiting southern Colorado, I get to see this every single day – two or four, three or six, four or eight times a day.
Continue reading A Different Kind of (almost) Rocky Mountain High
We have been home for a week today. I am surprised by what memories come to mind, and which images stand out from the nearly 3,700 photos we took over thirty days in France and Spain.
I am delighted to discover some of the sights and feelings have not faded and that, in fact, some show up with an insistent tenderness for notice and appreciation. Like this one: feeding the crows at Jardin des Plantes on our last full day in Paris.
Continue reading Nods of Love
My boots plum wore out.
We walked 104.98 miles over streets and up and down subway stairs (much of it looking for public restrooms), strolled through gardens and museums, stopped in at a few churches and said some prayers (please, no more stairs). Oh, and the Parisian cafes! I can’t forget all of the delightful sidewalk cafes and brasseries, bistros and patisseries, and late late LATE night suppers with a few friends. (Too many unforgettable meals to remember!!).
But my boots are toast (and not tasty French toast either). So much so that I am throwing them away in the itty bitty trash can supplied to us in our teenie weenie warehouse-style dorm room at Paris-CDG airport. Au revoir, black suede shoes. You served me well. (Your euthanasia was well earned.)
Continue reading Thirty Days in May (with Les)