this warped and weathered tree twisted by wind grey with time. it speaks more to my soul than many tongues of men.
Sometimes I grieve that I must cram all the creativity in my soul into a couple midnight hours each night. Tending home and children is an unrelenting job, as any momma knows, and these are trench […]
. . . But tension is to be loved when it is like a passing note to a beautiful, beautiful cord. – Sixpence None the Richer Like so many dreamers and doers, movers and […]
It begins with a sigh. Or a song. A whisper. A laugh or a cry. A low cloud of dust at my heels as i tread the journey path. It begins in the ordinary-ness […]