How much do you try to fit in those little shreds and patches of time between the usual things to be done.


I tossed the laundry in to the basket, grabbed the bowl of pins. loaded up the washer with the next load then headed out to hang them in the sun and breeze.

Summer breeze

Summer breeze


Walking back from the clothes line out back near the far pasture; I notice some weeds in the garden. I stop to pull the few I noticed; as I pulled, I noticed more. The seeing, pulling, and shifting went on for some time. My back was sore, then I looked at the clock, I had been at it for 3/4 of an hour. I had missed the rinse cycle on the washer, no softener in this load.


What continues to astonish me about a garden is that you can walk past it in a hurry to get to the next task at hand, see something wrong, stop to fix it, and emerge an hour or two later breathless, contented, and wondering what on earth happened.


Do fill the cracks of time so tight you couldn’t slip paper between the minutes? Do you accomplish more when you think you don’t have enough time? 


I have a list of things to be done a mile long. This list seems to the should haves, at the end of the day I wonder why I didn’t hem those pants (sorry Mike), why didn’t I trim the dog, (sorry Finn), why didn’t I trim his hair, (sorry honey).


“What may be done at any time will be done at no time.”
– Scottish Proverb

I did however: weed the garden, hang the laundry, help Jenn with her knitting, do the dishes, make the beds, vacuum the rugs, feed the animals, throw the ball for Lexi, clean the chicken coupe, plan dinner, write this post, respond to emails, and its only noon! 


“It is not enough to be busy, so are the ants. The question is, what are we busy about?”
– Henry David Thoreau

I have much to learn.

Be well,




Walking and conversation seem to go hand in hand. Inspired conversation, thoughts from deep within, the longer the walk the deeper the conversation.


I think I could write an interesting memoir of outstanding walks I have taken with others, during which togetherness was not only shared but settled tenderly into the landscape of memory.


When I was a child, my sisters and I used to walk, from the busstops to home, through parks, across fields and up and down hills.


We talked of many things, some meaningful (to very young children) and some completely outrageous, and quite a few very tall stories emerged on those walks.


Whatever the content of the talking, those walks and those conversations remain important memories for me of my attachment to my family, and to nature.


We used to stop along the way to look for Lady Slippers, a protected native orchid. We found a few. We found Poison Ivy more often.


The content of these walks have become blurred, now they’re more a painting in my memory. There, As a whole, no particular parts.  Cherished.


“As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives.”
– Henry David Thoreau

Get out there, it’s good medicine.

I am the walkingist girl around, we (my husband or daughter and I) try to put in 6 miles a day, though we don’t always achieve this; weather has her own say in things.

Be well,


Between Rain and Setting

Life is balance.

We strive for balance yet  balance is all around us.


We struggle between effort and rest, between night and day, between yes and no.


What will work and what won’t.


Do we need to have more quiet, more noise, more movement, more stillness?


Do you find balance with travel?


Do you remain grounded?


What keeps you happy and healthy?


Me? A Sunday night drive in the country. 

Be well,


Maundy Thursday.

In the Roman Catholic Church, Lent officially ends at sundown on Holy Thursday (Maundy Thursday), with the beginning of the mass of the Lord’s Supper.


The period of forty fast days and Sundays before Easter are known as Lent.  For penance this year I chose to give up Facebook. Sounds strange doesn’t it? Shouldn’t I have given up sweets, or beer ( i don’t drink beer, so that would be too easy). I chose not to forego desserts, I had fasted from them for 3 months, as I prayed for my niece’s health, healing and peace. I had become accustomed to being with out sugar. I thought I had better choose another vice, one that I spent far too much productive time viewing.


It wasn’t easy at first. My thumb would find itself hovering over the icon on my phone, or iPad  far too easily almost instinctively. It was a hard habit to break.


My (few and far between) twitter posts found their way to my page, as did my Pinterest activity. I saw the increasing number of posts waiting to be read; tempting just one quick click.

I did (I admit) check once or twice, on my Sister Gina’s post…just to be sure of her.


Here I am, facing the end of Lent and hoping I don’t fall back into the pattern of wasted time.

Be well, Take the light of the Lord with you wherever you go.


It’s April, who’s Fooling whom?

This is what April [usually] looks like on our little cottage farm. Do you suppose Mother Nature plays April fools jokes? I’d like to think she has a sense of humor.

beautiful April morning 001 beautiful April morning 003 beautiful April morning 004 beautiful April morning 005 beautiful April morning 012 beautiful April morning 017 beautiful April morning 024

How this place we call home looks today?


They are too discomfited to allow for company. You do understand, don’t you?

Perhaps the chooks will let us visit?


Uhm, guess not, they choose to not even show their faces.

The goats are happy go-lucky, let’s ask Shelby for a visit.


Oh, Okay. We get the message, we’ll visit another day.

Be well, and take the light of the Lord with you wherever you go.


Heady with the aroma of growth

A simple bit of earth has the impressive power of evoking grand dreams. The magic begins with the arrival of winter’s dispersal of seed catalogs.

Boston heritage roses

If you garden and are anything like me you dream, and plan you scratch lines in the soil with the toe of your boot, you carve and through grassy strips creating new beds and expanding the old. You move this here and that there, in hope of better growth. Maybe this next to that would be better…you have illusions of a grand garden (or perhaps delusions).


Notions gleaming with possibility and loosely tangled treasure bounce through your noggin, like spring peepers on your pond.


Ideas flash like a a photographer’s bulb, if only they were as easily created as they are imagined.


I imagine more garden paths, lined with pea stone beckoning you to enter herb gardens filled with basils, thyme, rosemary, and sage, or a bench tucked away in a secret cutting garden.


Fields of french lavender lending their fragrance to dawn’s solitude.


You feel the moss under your bare feet that cling to the damp slate slabs in an outdoor dining area. You sit, senses drenched with wisteria draping from the pergola overhead. Birds, bees, and butterflies going about the daily task of pollination (no chemicals to harm them in sight).


It’s still much too cold here to get out and work the soil, so I sit sipping Earl Grey whilst I bide my time, content to plan and dream.

Spring 2011 070

“My garden of flowers is also my garden of thoughts and dreams. The thoughts grow as freely as  the flowers, and the dreams are as beautiful.” Abram L. Urban


Be well, dream, and do.


Going…going…will it be gone?

Winter. Just another of life’s adventures; fraught  with roller coaster temperatures and seemingly insurmountable layers of snow and ice. A journey that forced us inside, inside ourselves to ponder our dreams and the roads we have already traveled. To navigate our paths, or wander serendipitously, our minds open to what could be. DSC_6138

Something about the near hibernation plummets me into retrospect, a desire to reroute my intended destination; to find joy in my journey, succumb to the stillness.    Be. DSC_6142 It has faded , winter; I struggle to rectify the inside with the out. I listen to melody of my past, believing the best is yet to come. Fresh beginnings, new goals, bright dreams; they are all there in the song. A song of sweet nothings. DSC_6140 I delight in the sweet nothings now, the season slowed me enough to recognize contentment in the ordinary. The sunrise, the sunset, skyping with my husband 10 thousand miles away, puppy kisses, baby giggles, or a llama’s whiffle; these are gifts that could slip by without being noticed, aren’t they? Keep your eyes and your heart open lest you miss life’s beauty. DSC_6129 Some of the best moments are the simplest. Be well, catch the moments and hold on tight. Jess