mother wood

bird on the bare branch

On Mother’s Day, my spouse and I ventured into the woods, she with her camera, and I with a hat. Spring in Vermont fully here, bird song, rushing rivers, and myriad shades of green exploding from forest floor to tree top. Ours was a meditative stroll, moments barefoot, even a toe dipped into the icy mountain stream, feeling the great mother of us all.

woman walking over a wooden bridge

Seasons set us on a new direction. This Spring, the rebirth of a business, a routine of walking together, eating even greener, all to nurture ourselves inside and out. This stroll under the big blue sky with little direction, proffered a singular gift: to find our inner fire. We stepped in stride.

trillium in the woods

We find delight within the shade of the tall trees. These resilient plants that dare to poke out from under last year’s fallen foliage cause us to linger, crouch, and marvel at their delicate leaves and pastel shades. Trillium. We spy several varieties all a different hue. We count ourselves lucky. No, luckier. They survived. We survived. And today we rejoice together.standing by the waterfall

Water is part of my soul. I can’t get far from that element without despair creeping inside. Today we ventured to the source racing and rushing with enough force to round rocks and topple trees. This is not a power to mess with and we are halted in awe. Reverence. Those secrets running past call out, we remember to hear truths. Boisterous loud daring honesty in waves. We listen.

rushing river

We yearn for more of this reprieve from our fast-pace life. From the up and out and busy through the seconds that make up each day. For together years have fled by us. This day we allow the cold water to return us to the now, to the daring expectations that the very next minute might hold. I hop from rock to rock to get closer to that. And then sit steady. Believe. Right here.

woman sitting next to the river

Each hour of this day unfolding as it might, we meander into discovery. Might this not be our everyday? How might the beginner’s mind be swapped with our tired one? Let this sunlight falling on feet and face be felt with all wonder alone. This river strips away our debris, the old, to bone.  
fiddleheads in the woods

What is it about decisions and choices that lay ahead that make us doubt? There are days when all I want is to see a straight line in front of me, and other days when that is the very last course I wish to take. We walk on, taking the curves in stride, slowing at the challenge, peering behind before space fades, but moving as curious explorers must. Beyond is a new way, a path to take.

woods walk in Vermont

Flowers budding on every branch leaves leafing while the light shifts our view upward. There is laughter core deep that follows nature’s lead and bursts forth. We hold hands. Feel the soft breeze smell that honey sweet exquisite softening earth coming back after the winter freeze. Our banter turns to dreams and they all seem less daunting almost pastoral in their simplicity. This life our life turns from starry wonder to realized potential as we stroll on grassy path far from our beaten one.
spring flowering trees

I hope you too found a place all your own last Sunday. If not, get there soon, whatever, where ever out there means to you. A place to remember those lost treasures and ambitions, those very gems that make you. Remember to step off, capture all your astray passion, and tug it back inside.

And a special Cheer to all the mothers and those who nurture this planet and all the inhabitants!


Photo credit: my dear Miss Mj, who catches the best moments we share, and can do the same for you through ArtCity Marketing

May Days

May brings the days we live for in northern Vermont. Long afternoons to get outside, all of us, and even in the slanted sunlight we rejoice for this freedom. Winter, almost a distant memory as temps rise, and all around buds green and flowers red. Oh Lady Spring, thank you for all the gifts.

dog on a wooden bridge

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The 100th post: Love

347… not quite 350, but awfully close. That’s the number of posts I’ve written. Hard to imagine it’s been years since the 100th and looking back I’m not sure where the time went, or where all the inspiration and thoughts came from, but I guess that’s the point of staying present. Ideas come, and if we can catch on to them and we remain in the here, they materialize. Funny thing is I always post on a Thursday, and even on the craziest of weeks, I hold myself to that deadline. I figure you all depend on my nine cents (that’s humor). This week, if you’re reading this post in real time, I’m publishing on a Friday. And it’s even a repost! Planning you see, from time to time, flies out of our hands. Something else happens instead, and when it does, we stop. Look back. Assess. Step forward. An interesting dance. Reflecting forward. Bringing forth a forgotten moment into the now. With love.

Nine Cent Girl


Seems like a lifetime ago when Nine Cent Girl was born… The fiery hues of autumn had just subsided into a monochromatic black and white across my Vermont landscape, fickle sunlight and arctic air drove me indoors; it was during this introspective time of the seasonal circle that my blog became a trusty beacon, illuminating my direction through what dark days lay ahead as well as brightening the unforeseen surprises dropped along my path.

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I ❤️ Italia

There is nothing about Italia I do not love. I know I sound like a blushing bride, all floaty and superficial, but as we traversed quickly from one region to the next, I was made drunk on the beauty, the language, the history, and certainly the food. Yes, in love, indeed.

Most, I am certain, have seen these sights before, if not with your own eyes then in photos, so there is little use of me writing another travelogue; but I do hope you come along with me all the same. This trip, two years in the making, finally underway, took a team, all smiles, from the moment we touched down until… well we’re still smiling.

A view of Venice from the waterways

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“April is the Cruellist Month”

Just about any season might be a possible walking season, but early April in Vermont might be the toughest there is for this activity. Roads are muddy and rutty, generally wet and even icy in shady spots, but still, with extra determination, I get outside when I can face it. Even if my long coat is required and I must wear a wool hat, the sunshine is delicious. The icy north wind dictates how long or short these jaunts can last, but one does build fortitude while combating such conditions, right?

shadow on the dirt road during mud season Continue reading