Sunrise

Each morning both colour and form return to the rooms I write in, despite the rain, the snow and the cloud cover. Leaves of my fig plant appear like green-stained glass in the window, my cello a rich chestnut brown. In all weathers, the sun rises and days begin. For me, each reliable day this … More Sunrise

Impossible Beauty

It began yesterday morning when the temperature dropped.  This dreary, straight down rain we’ve felt so wrong about all month became soft floating flakes of snow – wet enough to stick to every branch, every bough, thick enough to cover last years piles in a pristine white eiderdown.  Less than a day later I wake … More Impossible Beauty