If you’re gonna eat local, dream big and put up with a little discomfort. It’s worth it.

We’re neither thrill-seekers nor shrinking violets; we just receive what’s put down in front of us and give our creativity a thorough workout.

My hunger is never satisfied but I don’t feel greedy. Maybe someday I’ll figure out how that works.

The roaring wind pushed through us all without apology.

Whatever my parents talked about on their way home, I’m certain it was wreathed in smiles.

Sit wherever you’re most comfortable and fall into it all with anticipation and gratitude.

Lines of existence blurred beyond care and recognition, we are forever intertwined, fused and growing older together.

Will I ever come back from a walk without lessons in my hands?

For all the training I’ve done on the merits of active listening, I’m still on the student side of the lectern most days.

I can only imagine the lives they’ve touched with this good spirit of helpfulness.

Somewhere between “plenty” and “just enough” light, the moon sat comfortably on my shoulder, gentle and glowing companion as I walked where the deer had been.

When winter feels unending, I lean on the mystery of every living being that goes under for the duration.

I’m making my way through and realize I’ve pushed the chunks of sausage aside, saving them for last.

I felt that internal swaying one often has when going all dreamy in the presence of great joyful possibility.

What if…we could tell our stories honestly and be given acknowledgement that they’re still being written?

I still stand beneath them all and wonder where summer went.

These days, I find myself comfortably going to those mind-attic places, unpacking the dusty boxes and trunks of my life lived so far, and holding the contents to my chest in reverence, gratitude and love.

Wedged snugly in the line of trees that caught it, this gentle giant wasn’t going anywhere.

Face-up on the massage table, I let the tears run down my temples and past the top curve of my ears, enchanted and profoundly, wordlessly grateful.

The electrician is still scratching his head about that part of our story…and in the meantime, I’ve been researching the house’s poltergeist history.