We had a bit of an adventure last weekend. We belong to a food and wine group and the whole group was invited to attend a special dinner celebrating the legendary wine maker, Richard Peterson’s, 90th birthday and his seventy years of making wine.
The event was to be held at another wine maker’s residence in Napa, California, and a friend of ours, who was also planning to attend, invited us to ride along in his partner’s private jet. It’s not everyday that you get to ride in a private jet — so we brought along some nice champagne for…
I was honored last week to be interviewed on The Mamalorian Way about writing, and about being a “top writer” on medium.com.
My dear friend, Rebecca Fulton Rendon, has a great YouTube channel called The Mamalorian Way where she shares all sorts of tips about money, entrepreneurship and life from the eyes of a mother and wife.
She wanted to know a little more about medium.com and how it all worked. …
She thinks she’s sneaky. She’s only just beginning to realize that the peanuts are put out just for her.
Mrs. Squirrel spends most of the day barking at the kitties and me from the treetops, telling us all about how this is her yard and that we better beware. Mr. Bisou, my little puff of orange fluff, has whole conversations with her from the ground. And Freyja can climb a tree almost as well as Mrs. Squirrel.
She’ll slip down from the pines, as stealthy as can be, then skedaddle up the Australian Tree Fern, where her “peanut ring” has…
With earplugs in to muffle the ambient sound, you can barely hear the whine of the plane. Without the sense of hearing, it feels like you are floating, suspended on a bubble of air, high above glacial fields and granite peaks in a buffer of quiet and solitude.
The kid who picked us up and drove us to where the seaplane was docked was also our pilot. …
I love macrophotography (photographing the world of the very small) because it’s like getting a glimpse into nature through the eyes of a bee, a butterfly or a bird. So often, we get so stuck in our own perceptual patterns that we forget that we are not the center of the universe. Macrophotography allows me to shift my point of view for a while.
To the bee, below, this scabia flower must seem as big as a house. I loved the detail in his wings and the sparkle in his eyes. …
Have you ever shuffled across a thick carpet, then reached out to pet your cat and been startled (and scared away the cat!) by a jolt of static electricity? We’ve all felt, or even seen, electrostatic sparks when we’ve pulled a shirt off over our heads or touched a balloon when the weather’s been dry for a few days.
The small shock you’ve felt is caused by your body equalizing the voltage between what you’ve just touched and the ground. And we’re not the only creatures who regularly encounter such jolts.
Flowers, like anything that moves, are surrounded by electric…
After a day of cruising through Glacier Bay, Alaska, marveling at the icebergs, which looked as if they had been lit from within by a fluorescent blue light, and at the magnificent Margerie Glacier, whose toe dips down into the frigid Alaskan fjord waters, and then serendipitously catching two separate pods of Humpback Whales bubble-net feeding, my husband and I didn’t think we could take in any more awe.
A little high from the euphoria of the day, we poured ourselves some wine and posted up in our cabin to watch the sunset. We were aboard the thirty-two passenger Alaskan…
Flying into Juneau, you notice one thing — the Mendenhall Glacier poised in the distance, looming over the valley below. We’d come from Southern California for two weeks in Alaska, beginning with two nights in Juneau before boarding a thirty-two passenger catamaran to cruise the Inside Passage for a week and then spend the remainder of our time in Sitka.
Bam! I’m out.
Birthed into the glorious riot of
sunshine that is late afternoon in July.
The dirt rides high on my tires
and tiny sparks of finches fly
from their perches on the
silhouetted stalks of dried thistle
and yesterday’s mustard.
Am I in heaven?
Or is heaven in me?
I am in the womb of creativity,
gathering syllables that slide
through my mind as
I glide through this ephemeral
moment in time.
I have to catch them before they die
into the ordinariness of reality.
The rhythm of life.
The pump in my veins.
Photographer, yogi, cat-mom, lover of travel and nature, spreading amazement for Mother Earth, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MA Yoga, MS Neuropsychology)