When Black Ice, my latest novel, entered the world at the end of July, life became all about the book. Book launches, book readings, book signings, book reviews, book sales, book events, book publicity and marketing…of the book. You get the picture. No longer a spring chicken, after 10 personal appearances in six weeks, I […]
And a metaphor for counting your blessings instead of your losses and disappointments.
Our main objective was to hike the Gorge Trail in Letchworth State Park, to the three major waterfalls that are the highlight of this stunning place.
The people who visit the Chautauqua Institution are there to seek solace, and turn their minds away from a troubled world.
I’m not sure I can remember a time when I felt more attuned to the natural world than I did in that bog.
This summer, I will find a comfortable piece of driftwood and sit and stare at the water for a while.
Why is finding these small, delicate flowers so satisfying that I go looking for them every year?
I prefer not to think of the end of the summer growing season as the “death” of our vegetable garden, but as a transition into something new and different.
I sang to the bird, told it not to fear the unknown, and that it was OK to let go of life, whenever it was time.
Nature now provides the “heavy rotation” for me.
For centuries, poets, writers and philosophers have been inspired by weeping willow trees. So have I.
My uncle’s goal on these field trips was to teach us about paleontology…as well as something about life in Buffalo before the Buffalo Bills. (Photo of Eighteen Mile Creek by Doreen Regan)