hawksbill loop








Reboot. Disconnect from work and home, connect to the ground, air, living things. Touch soft moss and cold water. Hear rocks crunch underfoot and the wind sweep across the mountain. Deep healing.

Posted on May 1st, 2019 under

a world






I made a world for them. When I couldn’t find the perfect bunny house for sale, I glued wood and moss and stone, late into the night. I crafted grass, and a pond, and a path between the two bunny families. I felted rugs and bowls, sewed tiny curtains and pillows. I released my love into each piece, working as they slept, and with every stitch I sent thoughts to my little ones:

I love you.
I believe in you.
I am so happy to be your mommy.

Posted on December 27th, 2009 under

perry park






Wooden paths and bridges lead to trout pools lovingly tended by ghosts. A thick layer of moss covers every surface, absorbing our words and footfalls. In a neighboring yard, a woman hangs her laundry on the line. We float past her unnoticed.

Posted on June 23rd, 2009 under

this time, before the snows,








I want to need to remember:
:: a pod of dolphins hunting for their breakfast in the waters across the cove
:: the smell of laundry that has dried in the salty bay air
:: laughing and carrying on with old friends over wine and clams casino
:: a funky haircut that heralds a new season in my life
:: rounded triangles of moonlight reflected off the backs of thousands of waves and minnows
:: linguine con le vongole made by my former chef of a husband using clams dug from the bay with our own big and little hands. so. very. yummy.
:: reading sonnets under blankets after the weather turned much colder

Posted on October 16th, 2008 under