Adrift on whim I spiral here and there during the short summer in Vermont. On the luckiest of days I answer to
no one, dismiss errands, and banish have-to’s completely. Apparently, according to several research studies, “The mere thought of pleasant alternatives made people concentrate less” (Konnikova). Beyond my morning ritual of brewing a cup of strong black tea, I set my day’s course as casual as possible. Hot afternoons are spent near a local lake, cooler evenings cruising along on the bike path. In my back field, among the hillside of green ferns, purple flowers grab my attention; I waste away an afternoon photographing countless budding lupines. My fascination over this wildflower originated from a children’s book, Miss Rumphius, which I read to my daughter over and over. Lupines produce offspring freely, and these grow to flower and make more lupines than you can count. Fields are quickly over-run with these colorful spikes and while the environmentalist might look at them as an invasion, I see the rainbow of lupines as pure joy!
Tag Archives: Photography
Summer Place, 2
Summer is the perfect season for spontaneity and there is no better place than Vermont to make spur of the minute side ventures happen. This week alone I’ve grilled (okay eaten but fully watched the grilling) corn and chicken, swam across the local lake multiple times, picked 
6 more quarts of strawberries for jam, biked along my favorite recreation path with the ‘bitchin babes’, luncheoned with my dearest (and recently returned) snow-birds who form 1/2 of my writers’ group, enjoyed two outdoor concerts, first a full orchestra high up on the von Trapps’ mountain with fireworks popping during the overture, then dinner listening to my friends’ blues band while overlooking Lake Champlain, started stacking wood for the winter (well, not exactly fun, but having it delivered this week was pure luck!); I braved a plunge into the frigid river waterfall, ate ice cream more than once, drank plenty of pink wine (my new obsession this summer, although I do believe most grown-ups call it rosé) watched (from my bed) the sunrise and (from my deck) the sunset and thoroughly enjoyed every brilliant and warm second in between, and yet, haven’t sat down to write a word! I did manage to glance back through my blog, and found an apropos summer post from 2012. I truly hope you enjoy this golden oldie reposted below. Afterwards, please go outside and enjoy SUMMER too! xxoo
for all of us
Last week while still in Louisville I had the good fortune to hear Richard Blanco retell his story: from immigrant to inaugural poet for Obama in 2013. The story he shared is fabulous, filled with colorful elaboration, detailing his parents’ bold move from Cuba to Miami, recalling his fascinating childhood to his own journey as a poet. He moved his audience to tears and laughter, from the nostalgia of the past to the shared hope for the future. His story touched us all as pieces of it became our own. How he was picked by the White House is a mystery, even to him, but once we all heard his voice ring out over the capital on that cold January day, that no longer mattered. Richard Blanco is all of us.
Nine Cent Girl 