Imagine waking up on the first of the month raring to go. It’s a Monday, so the possibilities shine even more brightly. Month-end review in the can, intentions set, color-coded calendar pages beautifully arranged on the office wall right next to that shiny new vision board. You’ve set an intention –. . . .Show me more . . .
The college kids are back on campus, most of the tourists are retired couples and parents with preschoolers, and the locals are wild with anticipation of taking back their town. I’m surrounded by signs that summer’s ending. I used to spend the last week of August in mourning, but after. . . .Show me more . . .
When the mid-career couple quit their jobs to open a cafe at the seashore that spring, they didn’t know superstorm Sandy would wreak havoc on their business and their new community in the fall. When my dad finally bought the “little place at the shore that you can sweep out. . . .Show me more . . .
There is no clear path. Commit to what calls you. ~ Clive Gillinson Sounds a little, uh, life coach-y, doesn’t it? Can’t you just see it on Facebook, beautiful image, text linked to the site of a self-proclaimed self-help guru with that breathy, fake-yoga voice. Clive Gillinson’s nobody’s guru, but. . . .Show me more . . .
Last time, I wrote about how the weeks between mid-August and early September feel a bit like New Years, no matter how long since your last back-to-school shopping excursion. This time, I’m going to show you how the change of seasons – especially from summer to fall – can become. . . .Show me more . . .
I love summer. I love waiting to spy the first lightning bug every evening. Fresh local produce that makes healthy eating such a simple pleasure. The way a stifling August afternoon inspires guilt-free naps. And popsicles. Anticipation I love looking forward to summer, counting down the days until it feels. . . .Show me more . . .
It’s been a strange summer. Cool. Rainy. The vine of little white flowers, the one that covers the cedar tree in late August, like clockwork, has yet to appear. Still, there are plenty of signs that summer’s ending: one red leaf on the sassafras tree, abandoned osprey nests, Halloween candy. . . .Show me more . . .
I’ve always been fascinated with littoral spaces, the physical in-between places near a shore, especially the seashore. Liminal spaces, their emotional and temporal counterpart, not so much. My love of kayaking is fed as much by quietly exploring the marshes – littoral spaces accessible only when the tide is just. . . .Show me more . . .