The Budding Self

If I could only see myself the way I see my garden…   In its fledgling flax and parched penstemon I see graceful limbs and bold blossoms opening to the desert sun.   In the microscopic thyme that barely survived the winter, I see a brave heart. Kneeling to...

Hear the Music

I concentrate to play each note right Pluck the base, strum the treble. Focus on the beat, one-two-three-four. Oh, but don’t forget the syncopation!   Then comes the arpeggio: Fingers move so fast they crash into each other!   And of course the words: I must...

Claim your Playground

The lizard lifts high on his legs and sprints alongside your bike. His pointed nose and yellow stripes blur, as he churns up the dust. The raven swoops low over your shoulder. Her wings say whoosh, whoosh as she breaks open the sky. The water spider skates on an...