" ... softly, reverently... " letting the quietness of winter settle in...

" These are the days in-between. The liminal space that hovers beyond the festivities and ahead of the fresh New Year. A time of long walks, hot coffee, languid lounging. ... everything on pause." the hush is a precious time... that fleeting pause when time bends and magic hovers." {Beth Kempton : Calm Christmas} the liminal space of silence and slow time. letting my soul catch up from the hustle and bustle of the holiday season. a permission to pause... letting the days unfo

" I already have nostalgia for the present. So yes... I'll eat the warm bread/tend to my longing/ buy the flowers/ embarrass myself/over text/ comfort this mortal body/ cry when I'm moved/ drink the extra coffee/hold the cup with both hands/be present with its heat and fall a little more in love with every flickering moment. Because this is it. This soft, primal, imperfect now." {Victoria Erickson} just over here falling a little more in love with every flickering moment. thi

" Her pleasure in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year, upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn, that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness, that season which had drawn from every poet, worthy of being read, some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling." {Jane Austen :

" To be a gentle mover in a swiftly spinning world. To be present. To only entertain the real. To listen. To stand inside of the stretch, the momentum, the tall discomfort of change, the knowing that you don't need to rush the practice, or even fake or force a thing. To believe in rhythm and movement. To trust in the river, the song, the stillness, the storm, and the seed. This is my religion." {Victoria Erickson} these lines... exactly what my heart needed this day. I hope y

" September has come... it is hers, whose vitality leaps in the autumn, whose nature prefers leaves and a fire in the fire-place." {Louis...

" August is the slow, gentle month that stretches out the longest across the span of a year. It yawns and lingers on with the light in its palms." {Victoria Erickson} " I live in music, in words, in the fires of the heart." {Mary Oliver August days... I couldn't decide which collections of images to share, so I'm sharing both. How different each one translates the feelings of one single month. Light, bright and happy... moody, quiet and peaceful. A month that gifted all in g

" I often think that all of those vast desires for purer joys, that thrill the human heart, vague yearnings such as solitude inspires,...

" I have found myself thinking of summer fields. Fields full of flowers - poppies or lupines. Or, here, fields where the roses hook into...

" In this spacious, suspended place of quiet, we are recalled to our true selves, summoned to examine and honor this eternal impulse...

" To feel the leaping heart of joy in the presence of greenness... It's entirely possible to exult in birdsong and miniature flowers...

" On this morning the weather was of that voluptuous vernal kind, which calls forth all latent romance of a man's temperament, filling...

" I wanted to stride away while I was able to stride; to embrace the beauty of the universe. I wanted to slip out each morning, alone in...

" The world will always be beautiful to those who look for beauty. Throats will always catch when the fleeing clouds part fleetingly and...

" Do something today that your future self will thank you for." {unknown} thankful for taking the time a few autumns ago to plant...

" I'm no reformer; for I see more light than darkness in the world; mine eyes are quick to catch the first dim radiance of the dawn, and...

" When I recall the tranquil, and even happy mood in which I passed those hours, and remember, at the same time, the position in which I...

​ ​ " Let us start our grand tour of the year, my little friend. It will be a voyage of discovery." ​ {A Countryman's Winter Notebook} ​...

" The quiet spaces in which we root our attention become the cadence to the symphony of the story we are forming day by day. ...words...

" I look and look. Looking's a way of being: one becomes sometimes a pair of eyes walking. Walking wherever looking takes one. The eyes...