a lakeside story

stepping back

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we were in between nor’easters.  feeling restless, we packed our toothbrushes, hopped in the car and drove to Maine.  with no particular destination in mind, we ended up in Portland for the night.  we walked all over the city, people watching, testing out some local culinary goodness, just enjoying being by the sea.  there is a sense of randomness and freedom in taking little trips like this..and somehow it got me to thinking about my work.  I want that sense of freedom and randomness here too.  I  don’t want my work to be measured in number of “likes”.   I’ve been thinking about this for a long time now and I’m finally disabling the “like” and “comment” buttons.  It’s so wonderful if you enjoy visiting here and even more wonderful that no one should feel the pressure to always comment or press that little like button.  so from now on, this will be a pressure free site.

should you have a question or concern, you may always email me, my address is on my home page.

I’m doing my work, then stepping back..

 

Fill your bowl to the brim and it will spill.

Keep sharpening your knife and it will blunt.

Chase after money and security and your heart will never unclench.

Care about people’s approval and you will be their prisoner.

Do your work, then step back.
The only path to serenity.

~ Lao Tzu

vulnerable to joy

one day with Izzy

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all we needed was a little snow..

a week later, it arrived

 

“I know what I really want for Christmas.
I want my childhood back.
Nobody is going to give me that. I might give at least the memory of it to myself if I try. I know it doesn’t make sense, but since when is Christmas about sense, anyway? It is about a child, of long ago and far away, and it is about the child of now. In you and me. Waiting behind the door of our hearts for something wonderful to happen. A child who is impractical, unrealistic, simpleminded and terribly vulnerable to joy.”

~ Robert Fulghum

 

 

*Many thanks to Isabella Ciasullo, Carol MacGregor of Happy Gatherings Photography, and Jill Porter of Petal Pusher’s Floral Studio  ( for allowing us to play around your beautiful home).

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Last chapter

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Summer sings its long song, and all the notes are green.
But there’s a click, somewhere in the middle
of the month, as we reach the turning point, the apex,
a Ferris wheel, cars tipping and tilting over the top,
and we see September up ahead, school and schedules
returning. And there’s the first night you step outside
and hear the katydids arguing, six more weeks
to frost, and you know you can make it through to fall.
Dark now at eight, nights finally cooling off for sleep,
no more twisting in damp sheets, hearing mosquitoes’
thirsty whines. Lakes of chicory and Queen Anne’s lace
mirror the sky’s high cirrus. Evenings grow chilly,
time for old sweaters and sweatpants, lying in the hammock
squinting to read in the quick-coming dusk.
A few fireflies punctuate the night’s black text,
and the moonlight is so thick, you could swim in it
until you reach the other side.

~ Barbara Crooker

humble pie

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“I want you to stop running from thing to thing to thing, and to sit down at the table, to offer the people you love something humble and nourishing, like soup and bread, like a story, like a hand holding another hand while you pray. We live in a world that values us for how fast we go, for how much we accomplish, for how much life we can pack into one day. But I’m coming to believe it’s in the in-between spaces that our lives change, and that the real beauty lies there.”
– Shauna Niequist