… birds feed on freshly sewn seeds just outside the window, and the world is right, as I am left to read in the warm morning sun, for as long as I like.
Gathering wood today for cooking and warming fires is an activity as old, beautiful and essential as the ancient need was, up here in the high desert.
I frequently write about “driving down the mountain,” but I haven’t ever offered you a photographic “tour” of doing so. Yesterday I had a great opportunity to create a visual for you.
Have any of you ever seen the kind of snow that I call Fairy Dust? It’s like ultra fine glitter falling from the sky and catching the light just so. Or sugar falling all around picking up the light.
This poem, sent to me by a reader, offered me its fresh perspective. On the chance you, like me, have not yet put this thought into form, I’m passing the poem on to you.
One of my favorite things is the sun shining across fields of snow, especially fresh snow. Kim and I had espresso and Italian Christmas cake. What do I need with presents?