I didn't grow up eating beans. Well, canned green beans were presented on a plate, overcooked and gray. Unseasoned lima beans, pasty in color and consistency, were thrust upon us every couple of weeks. Canned peas, which I could barely tolerate. But not garbanzo beans, or black eyed peas, or black beans, small red kidney... Continue Reading →
Grief
We're going to visit one of his favorite places tonight, the sequoia grove Dudley and I found in one of our first exploring adventures here, and miss the jangle of his tags and the swish of his feathered tail up the switchback trail.
What My Daughter Taught Me
These are the ephemera that deserve my attention, not the dust tumbleweeds in the hallway or smudges on the fridge.
How I’ve Missed You
. . . my practice connects me to the visceral nature of playing an instrument, the raw thrumming vibration that courses through your body when you put your hands on the keys.
Pristine and Perfect
I see the approach of time and watch with caution the degradation of my body, but can't help but celebrate my ongoing good health.
Meg Currell 