On a rare sunny April afternoon, I sit on a round stone near Vic’s cairn and watch the nearby stream. The forest floor is brown with last fall’s leaves. I notice a flash of orange. A butterfly
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It will probably be cloudy here, because it’s March in the NY Finger Lakes. Still, on the off chance we have a clear day, I prepare for the solar eclipse. My home is near the Path of
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“I lost big trees in the recent wind,” I tell the Finger Lakes Land Trust steward who answers my call. “A mature oak, a sugar maple, a big hickory, and a few red maples. Many ash are
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“But you’re bound to lose If you let the blues get you scared to feel And I feel like I’m just being born Like a shiny light breaking in a storm There are so many reasons why
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I groped around in the dark searching for my ringing cell phone. It had to be Vic who was resting downstairs. I turned on a low light and made my way to his side. “What do you
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I hear my husband Vic’s favorite words when he felt pounded by life. “Sometimes you’re the hammer. Sometimes you’re the anvil.” This week I was the anvil being hammered by viral bronchitis, but I’m not alone and
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On January 7, thick wet snow fell for the first time this winter. I wasn’t worried. I knew my friend and helper Matt had his eye on the weather. When my husband Vic had lymphoma in 2006,
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A man I’ve known since he was a boy put up his yearly Holiday Star, high in an old Spruce tree near the road. I look forward to this every December. Thank you, Brett Beardslee. In the
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She glides across clear night skies, growing larger and brighter and fuller as I watch Her from my home on Earth. While humans drop bombs, destroy forests, and pollute Earth’s water, She
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An elderly man stood inside the door of the library. He took a wobbly step toward me, nodded, smiled, and said something in a raspy voice I couldn’t hear. He’d been tall once, but was stooped, rounded,
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