In Honor of Our 50th Anniversary May 18, 1968 – 2018 By the time I was twenty, I was used to my mother living in a different country every year, knew what classes to take at Cornell,
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Jean Raffa and I spent two days brainstorming and writing a workshop proposal. The night after I left Jeanie’s home, I had this dream: I look down into the streambed on my land. My small stream is a
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Jean Raffa, an author I admire, invited me to join a blog tour highlighting authors who write about spirituality and intuitive understanding. I encourage you to visit Jean’s blog and website where she writes about Jungian psychology,
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I stood naked in my husband Vic’s office on a sunny afternoon. I had taken a fast shower after working in the garden. My wet hair was wrapped in a towel, but the rest of me dripped
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The trees loomed ancient and prehistoric in the fog. Vic loved their height. He arched his back and looked up to the gray sky. I loved the dark hollows within the circular clusters of redwoods. I climbed
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