Swoop of cat whiskers •
All of a Sunday Morning •
Waiting for breakfast Continue reading →
Mystery is what happens to us when we allow life to evolve rather than having to make it happen all the time. It is the strange knock at the door, the sudden sight of an unceremoniously blooming flower, an afternoon in the yard, a day of riding the midtown bus. Just to see. Just to notice. Just to be there. — Joan Chittister Continue reading →
I think this bloke is from northern England so no doubt sheep are everywhere he looks, but his name is Wooley for pete’s sake! Sheep! Everywhere! (He probably sees a lot of these stone walls, in the Dales too.) and … Continue reading →
I work at my watercolor (not as often as I’d like) and I work at my poetry (this month very regularly indeed) and they often cross paths when I’m sending out postcards of poetry. These are the three postcards I … Continue reading →
A man’s duty is to find out where the truth is, or if he cannot, at least to take the best possible human doctrine and the hardest to disprove, and to ride on this like a raft over the waters … Continue reading →
If we listened to our intellect, we’d never have a love affair. We’d never have a friendship. We’d never go into business, because we’d be cynical. Well, that’s nonsense. You’ve got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down.
