Monthly Archives: May 2017


Being here makes me think of Robert McClowsky.


One Morning in Maine

Make Way for Ducklings

Blueberries for Sal

Burt Dow Deep Water Man

But the title that keeps coming to mind, the illustrations that continue to sit atop my visions in this place – are the ones from McCkowsky’s book entitled Time of Wonder.

It’s one of my most favorite picture books. Absolutely riveting. I wish I would have thought to bring it along on our little beach adventure here.

While I’m currently not in the northeast, thinking of that picture book and seeing the beach right here before me – I feel a strong desire to find my way up to the coast of Maine and write pages upon pages upon pages. Of what I’m not even sure, but ink would flow happily I just know it.

The beach is the writer’s workshop, it seems.

This one’s anyway.

I have yet to find a more splendid atmosphere for creating.

The oldest and I were out scooting around at the break of day and the sun looked like something you could peel again. The early island air was so fresh I felt like I was breathing in medicine. It filled me up in a special way.

I needed it because I have unfortunately felt somewhat ill since arriving, and am having to stay back from some of our activities. Oy vey.

But everyone else is thriving and for that I am thankful.  (Prayers? Thank you.)

I have laundry spinning in the washer right now. (It follows me, no matter where I am.) The kids’ suitcase is a disheveled mess and I should really straighten it up before they get back. And I need to return a few emails. But instead – I think this non-napper is going to lay down for a quick siesta before my people return. It’s something I rarely practice, but should more often perhaps.

The lesson for today I suppose, is this…

No place, no thing, no situation, no vacation – is perfect. It still takes place on this spinning fallen orb and stuff is going to go down anyhow. It’s our job to seize what we can, expect for the best, and hope for moments of sweetness and revelation, no matter how fleeting. Help me to do it, God.

Happy Thursday to you, friends. Hugs all around.




I’m watching waves roll white. Three precious heads are bobbing high and low on water that’s awake and roaring, and there’s nary a cloud nigh. The sun is beaming down heat, the sand is happy and warm, and Mama is pleased to sit here and let the pen work. The sea is my sonnet this week. I’ve watched for years now… Read more →

The Progression of an Evening

I just started a pot of lentil and sausage soup. It’s bubbling all wild and happy on the stove as I mix cornbread. It’s dreary and grey and soggy outside, and it’s made me want to fill our bowls with something hot and soothing. The children, one by one, have come into the kitchen asking what we’re having – because… Read more →