Six months ago we made our last dump run, filled our front lawn with the last of the give-away free-stuff, watched the movers load up a houseful and drive west, and then we shut the door on our Vermont home one last time. Late July can be an iffy time to drive across the stormy mid-west and most certainly the scorching west but without too much strain we arrived in our new SoCal condo unscathed. There was some lag time before the movers arrived while we “camped” in our empty place, but with makeshift “furniture” and one-skillet cooking, we did just fine. I always swore I would not move somewhere just because that’s where my children now lived, but life certainly changes when a grandchild arrives on the scene. After a year of flying back and forth, we decided he just might be reason enough to move to the Gold Coast, with the ocean biking-distance from our home and palm trees swaying under blue skies most every day. Six months in, yes, he’s worth it.
unreliable still, again
The Creative Act
In a world of glossy finished products, of Masterpieces by Masters and Pulitzers by Award-winners and a long list of really great Greats preceding us all, it can take a bit of blind courage, intentionally dedicated time and a dash of wild ecstasy to allow your own creativity to bubble up and out. Each creation reveals a small piece of your lived life and a bit of your private heart, but most of all whatever it is that you produce is an expression of your pure joy. Walking into someone’s painting studio or craft workshop or writing room or gallery space can feel like entering another’s way of being. I invite you to come along into my creative private and public avenues.

