Moments Captured in Art, Photo, and Word

This morning, I awoke with an interesting thought: What if I were to make every day a poem? What kind of poem would today be? I didn’t mean that I would write verses about the day but would create a lovely day that produced thought and insight as if Mary Oliver herself had created it. This raised the question though, would my intentions dictate the poem, or would the muses decide what happens and create magical poetic moments? It was a worthy experiment, so I lay there contemplating this perplexing issue, dozing in and out until I had overslept, late for walking my puppy and with my cat howling for his breakfast.  So far, today’s poem was about being late and rushing, not very lovely or poetic.   Or, my poem might be about yielding to the experience. While getting dressed, instead of asking Siri to shuffle my favorite music as usual,  I requested she play  A Horse with No Name  out of the blue  as I was throwing on a sweater and jeans to take my dog out. It...

So, as some of you may know, I fractured my pelvis while hiking last summer and it was the perfect time to work on my poetry book,  It’s a Little Bit Skimpy , with illustrated poems. What is very exciting is that I discovered an AI program that will take my lyrics, create a melody with amazing vocals, and in 20 seconds, I get a song from my lyrics. What fun!  The poem is called,  My Phone is a Silent Bully . Maybe you can relate. The book is now out and available on Amazon. Here's a link, should you want to buy the book or get more info. 

The technique I use for achieving my goals isn’t original, but it’s so useful for structuring my time, prioritizing what is important, and honing in on my goals, that I thought it was worth sharing. The technique is simply having a personal  Mission Statement , an uncomplicated idea that comes directly from  Seven Habits of Successful People  by Steven Covey, a book I read years ago. The key to making it effective is keeping my mission in my awareness, so I recall it when I wake up, and at night, I review how I did before I go to sleep. My mission statement has only four words in it. isn’t about an overblown corporate bit of wordsmithing, but rather a reflection on what is important in my heart, and what I want to have in my life that will help me to live my values and be happy. For me, the key to making this work is simplicity. If my mission statement was complicated, I would have tossed it long ago, Although the words themselves are not lofty or intricate, each word rep...

Take a journey through the enchanting landscapes of New England in the fall, where nature unveils its most vibrant colors. In this video, I’ll take you on a tour of some hidden gems on #BostonsNorthShore that showcase the region’s true beauty. From quaint towns nestled amidst the picturesque foliage to serene hiking trails offering panoramic views, this #NewEnglandFall adventure will leave you in awe and make you want to discover the out-of-the-way places not found on the usual leaf-peeper’s guides. A small town exploding with color is a different experience, and one not to be discounted. Follow me as we wander through scenic coastal towns like Newburyport, capturing the essence of #NewEngland’s maritime heritage against a backdrop of fiery autumn hues, with nearby #MaudsleyStatePark and #AppletonFarm in #Ipswich, where you can watch the #cows come home. We love #autumn in New England and I can’t wait for this year’s foliage. Plan your own #fallgetaway to #NewEngland. Let’s embark on a...

Other than having internal conversations with our muses, Artists and writers live in solitude, and without it, our creative voices would suffocate and lie dormant until there is an opportunity to meet again with our muses and an important part of ourselves. To me, this is a good kind of solitude, one that feeds me, and I thrive on it. A good day of creative work by myself can feel enormously satisfying and I have little need for company, and I can feed off this for days. But there is another kind of solitude. Everyone is born and dies alone, and in the meantime, there can be plenty of alone time. Some can feel good, but often, if we are feeling the lack of company, or FOMO (fear of missing out), not so much. When what fills our lives is unbalanced, with that alone time becoming too large, the world can feel like a very sad and empty place. This is more than a post-pandemic disconnect from the world. In many ways, I think Baby Boomers have forgotten how to be friends in the way that we ...

  This is a love letter to one of my favorite countries, the culturally rich, geographically diverse, and vibrant France. It’s where the old blends with tomorrow with vision and wisdom. There is a unique sensibility, and from what I can see, an appreciation of the best things in life. Did I mention the food? The art? I have traveled extensively in France, starting with my first visit when I was fifteen. Paris was the last stop on a tour with other high schoolers and my roommate, who had spent all her money, stole a slip from the maid’s room in our hotel to take home as a gift. The maid caught her when cleaning our room and started screaming at me in French since said roommate was soaking in the bath. The hotel manager made me stay and watch her until our tour chaperone arrived, or they would hand her over to the police. So, I missed part of Paris and always wanted to return. As if gearing up for future visits, I studied French over the years, but finally accepted that I will never ...

Before my husband died of cancer, we loved to travel. Half the fun of it was the planning and anticipation since we booked everything ourselves. We loved sitting on our couch with a laptop reviewing the hotels and destinations I’d researched.  We‘d discuss, make our choices, and commit. Just before he was diagnosed, we’d planned a trip to the South of France, the Loire Valley, and Paris and made reservations, but when he got sick, we had to cancel. All was refunded except for our reservation for the cute boutique hotel in Montmartre. After many emails, they agreed to let me change the date to a later time. This is how I came to take my first solo trip to France only two months after he died. Being in Paris again without my husband was bittersweet and I sat at the rooftop bar with a view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance and cried, broken-hearted. I always envy women who look comfortable while alone in a restaurant, but I am not sure that I can ever get there.  The idea of ex...