Sunrise.

Here comes the light from behind the trees.

Her comes Daisy....

...down the dog trail from her house to ours....

hey , mom...

ready to spend the day with us. A shared dog.

At night in downtown, when the shops are closed, the last of the restaurants has emptied out and the pinball bar is finishing up that final round; I like to walk through town. I move quietly and slowly in and out of the shop doorways, pausing to look into windows and up in the trees at sleeping song birds. Softly, as if my feet were padded, I walk and watch. I see what I miss in the broad daylight. Absent of people and cars, noise and light, I am serene and enchanted moving as if a ghost through the dark, deserted streets. I have peace.

Walking the beach today at Fort Flagler, I took a candid photo of myself. I am not big on taking many pictures of myself because the image on the camera is not the one I keep in my head. In the picture I downloaded this evening, I realized that except for the hair color, I look exactly like my mother. It is not want I want to see. Nothing was wrong with my mother, nothing at all. I am looking at a 56 year old woman in the picture anyway so perfection belongs not in my camera image but perhaps in Hollywood where Sharon Stone looks like a 30 year old screen goddess. I just feel myself melding into my mom, losing my identity as the more I resemble her. I know I am not her. So much is different about me, my life and my personality but I am wrestling with this issue. I admired my mother but never thought I would look like her. What a silly self centered thing to say! I can hear those words from her now.

I will not post the picture. It is hard not to just delete the dang thing. It was fun at the beach on a walk. Relaxing, centering. I am going to be doing some more soul searching on this mother issue. I wonder if my sons will think along these lines although I doubt it. I really do doubt it.

Studio Morning

A plane flies overhead. Songbirds sing and crows caw. Cool air softly floats in through the open bedroom window and morning nudges me awake. Early. Very early.

Quietly, barely breathing, holding my arm still so my bracelets do not make noise; I dress in yesterday's clothes, slip on red sandals and head to the studio.

The overhead lights begin their familiar hum and the air, still warm from the afternoon's sun, feels welcoming, drawing me in - as all the creative possibilities lay about on every table surface. Here there is jewelry to be made. A wool embroidery panel to finish. Paintings on the drawing table and easel. Tools, now silent, awaiting their turn in the creative, crafting frenzy. Everything begins to call to me.
" Make me. Finish this. Be inspired by me. Create me. "

This playground of my own creation just wants to be awake with me. Wants me to be its crafty companion. Wants to again sing with working energy. Good morning, studio!

I must sleep as a toddler sleeps these days. I am tired. I sleep. Deep and hard almost always filled with dreams of rich color and activity. Then just as suddenly as I dropped off this day to sleep, I am awake. Try as I might, sleep will not come again and my mind begins the dance of activity. As if on its' own winged flight, first here and then there, my mind lands amongst the leaves of a thousand different trees. It plays here, lingers there. Makes lists and daydreams. Begins a journey deep into the day when all things look possible in the earliest of morning light. It is 4am. Now 5. I am awake and hear the sounds a new day brings. Birds. A bee buzzes the open window. A dog woofs at the deer strolling through the yard. Out the window a young rabbit makes his fist hop from the blackberry vines ringing the side yard. Clouds hang heavy, full and brilliantly white against the bluest of skies. Everything pulses with energy as the sun bursts forth over the waters beyond Kala Point. A new day has begun and what an adventure it will be.

Three AM Awake in Milwaukee.

The morning feels safer, missing the darkening mysteries of the night. The sun softly rounds the concrete crystal corners of the city's tallest buildings; lighting every window. Every surface a caress of awakening. No hidden scariness here, no sorrow, no loss. Only light. Blue reflected from the skies, a clean start, a beginning that shouts I am new. Here I am. Awake with me.

This is a picture of Phil in the Milwaukee, WI airport this morning waiting for our flight. I took the picture quickly before he knew what I was doing and before he could move. He stood like this for a long time. Quietly. Watching out the big windows. I knew he wanted to be home. Knew he was glad to be leaving but the longing and stillness and looking forward just tugged at my heart.

The longing was there for both of us. His was just so visceral, so sweet, so near.