Tag Archives: sunsets

Roadside beach

Sometimes you just have to pull over and take time and breathe.

“The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart.” Helen Keller (1880-1968); Author, Lecturer, Activist

sunset, Lake Michigan - eastern shore, June 8, 2014

I was up north for the weekend. I drove north Friday night and came home, reluctantly, Sunday evening. Saturday was busy. It was full of chores and full of pulling in air, something I desperately needed. Saturday afternoon, I slow-cooked a pork butt on the grill and made my famous cucumber and red onion salad, at least it’s famous to me. It tastes like summer. I sliced off some pork slathering it with BBQ sauce Continue reading Roadside beach

Summer’s fading

chair crop
a slice of what is to come

Yesterday morning I awoke early, too early, around four thirty, it was dark, the kind of darkness that is complete except for the light that spills over into our yard from our neighbor’s security light. I looked out onto the lake and it was dark almost black it was such deep blue. The stars covered by a blanket of invisible clouds completed the late night and early morning darkness.

Ivy was up before me, in fact, she was the reason I was up as early as I was, she was concerned with something in the yard, her yard, and letting me know in her own way, loudly. I let her out and lay down on the couch to read, or try to read. After she had searched the yard, I let her inside and she jumped up and nested between my legs at the foot of the couch, rested her head on my calf, and fell back to sleep. It wasn’t long before I joined her and drifting off with the book open on my chest.

That was how my Friday morning began, slowly. Continue reading Summer’s fading