Reaching through the thorns
Our mother sent us out to pick blackberries once, along a gravel road, each of the three of us with an empty Folger’s coffee can (wildly optimistic of her to think we would fill even one).
Category: Whidbey
Remembering one beautiful day
I feel my late brother Tom’s wonder every time I look out at Puget Sound, and I’m so grateful for every beautiful day.
Transformations
In the cotton ball cocoon of morning fog I go out onto the beach, seeking raw material. The languid tide recedes, exposing the rocky shore, and even in the soft light, agates and bits of beach glass glow. Fog muffles the vision, but seems to amplify the sounds. From far …