journal.

these days.


a whole-lotta baking and jumping-and-running and having to answer to the clock. that's how these days have gone, lately. i am ready to plant my ass and sip some chai and flip through the pages of magazines stacked at my spot at the table, knit some fine wool into fingerless mitts for…

out again, him and me.


  we have found ourselves out in the snow. again. mountain milo is courageously snowshoe'ing with his pack. again. and once with me, him and me alone. mister jones 'shoed up the hill after we had been out for about an hour's time, citing "the dogs wanted to come snowshoe'ing." truth be told,…

these are the days.


  these days. these are the days i find myself often saying. deep fresh snow, more hours of daylight, and time to do as i wish when i wish. today, mister jones slept-in instead of waking at 3:30 to swim his three nautical miles at the pool. after time spent together in…

snowtical.


           i snowshoe'd. again. i am a snowshoe fool. people ask me why i don't swim at the pool with mister jones every morning. my answer -- i prefer holy silence and being alone. and, i prefer my water frozen. in the form of snow, you understand. people also ask me if…

this day.


  finding myself drawn back into chroma meditation. shifting feelings. shifting energies. watching colours chase onto paper. studying the tip of the brush as it touches the wettened palette. noticing how my breath changes as i become alighned with art.  ****** something mister jones said to me a few days ago i find settling deep…

all together now.


  so there i was, minding my own business, snowshoe'ing by myself. pinto was with me. so i guess i wasn't really by myself. i'd already been out to the prayer flag forest. then, all of a sudden, pinto BARKed and ran off. so often, lately, she hears something out there and…