Reflections on the small things, and the big ones, that impact our day-to-day lives.
We should live and be well: my corona diaries
A stanza from a Jane Hirshfield poem: A moment knows itself penultimate— usable, spendable,good yet, but only for reckoning up. Passover, with its nonseder/seder for me, the Zoom version for so many others,…
Walking Waiting Worrying Weeping: my corona diaries
Walking helps the weeping. Springtime brings a little something new to notice each day. Mostly I’m swept up in that touch of green-gold on just-budding leaves. Typically halfway into my walk around the…
I am not myself: my corona diaries
Day 1, week whatever. I am not myself. Why Day 1 when awareness of COVID-19 has been with us for months? Is it the snow falling, a post-spring-equinox reminder that seasonal change is…
In my secret life
A MOUSE I don’t do well with mice . . . (unless they’re the animated Disney variety making a dress for Cinderella or of the Mickey/Minnie ilk). They keep us on our toes…
Isn’t it Just Like February (redux)
Yo-Yo Ma once famously said that music happens between the notes–one way of explaining what I love about the mysteriousness of edges, cusps, those in-between places that demand our attention. A skim of…
One from the archives
Making a clean sweep of things sometimes gets the best of me. The other day, I was intent on finally consolidating blog posts from an earlier platform into my WordPress site. My digital (blogging) imprint…
