Tuesday, April 23, 2024

When you don't quite know what


the object you are looking at is?  Step back.  Take a photo and ask yourself gentle, "what is?" 

Monday, April 22, 2024

What would you think of Mondays


 if all flowers were only in the hues of gray, black and the the occasional white?  

Let's consider


 a blue umbrella's relationship to early evening.  It is not a conversation of silence.  

Sunday, April 21, 2024

Not hidden


but not in plain sight.  So where are we?  How do we know what we are seeing if the mind be preoccupied?  

Friday, April 19, 2024

My father gave me a love of walking.


I look at these ducklings and am reminded who grateful I am for a lifetime of walking.  My mother?  She gave me my love of reading.  Practical life lessons, for sure.  

Welcome

to my world.  Can you swim in the depths of the unconscious?  Join me.  
 

Thursday, April 4, 2024

When a rainbow allows itself to become the dream,

the four directions are all contained in that private keyhole.