The Hunter's Moon

When he woke and opened his eyes that morning the uneasiness hit him with force. She would be there, in his city by nightfall. They'd never met, never spoken except for typed words on a screen. They had agreed to meet simply because she was traveling with a friend and would be within visiting distance of his home. They had become friends through mutual interests, all conversations from miles away. Short sentences providing staccato glimpses into both of their lives.

His anxiety stayed with him through the morning hours. Not the uneasiness that causes fear. No, it was that nervousness that comes with anticipation. Hoping all will fall into place effortlessly but with the dreaded "what if" hovering precariously above it all. What if she looked at his face for the first time and saw someone other than the man she'd come to know through his words. What if their communication failed them without the barrier and safety of miles. What if she was not as he had imagined her to be, less than expected, less wise, less the woman behind HER words.

He decided to leave the house for a walk through his city. He wanted to try to see places familiar to him through different eyes, her eyes. His city was an old one, steeped in history, glowing with light, woven from centuries of stories. As he walked, he hoped that she would see the the castle walls softened with warm golden light, see the importance of the old men in the park playing chess, hear the sound of the click of their game pieces carried on the warm breeze drifting in off the river. He worried that she would find him and his city buried too much in the past, not modern enough, not new.

His anxiety grew as the golden day turned to soft twilight. He paced the floors of his home, looking around at his surroundings. Well-worn and beautiful wooden floors, tall windows with views of his beloved city, color and light, space and intimacy. Would she see the books on the shelves and curiously look to see what they were. Would she notice his desk in the corner where he spent his time writing the words she read every day. Would she find ease in his environment, foreign to her.

He ran his hands through his hair thinking, this is a mistake. Everything will change. Visions of stilted conversation, uncomfortable silences, unease flew through his mind as he continued to pace. Suddenly, the sound of a car and then footsteps on the cobbled walkway to his door. He stopped pacing and felt his breathing cease for a moment, his heart pounding in tentative anticipation. A soft knock on the door and he walked to face the disquieting thoughts he'd been carrying with him all day.

As he opened the door, he noticed three things at once. Her smile, open and welcoming. Her laugh, joyous with head thrown back. He'd never heard her laugh until that moment but it was the sound of coming home. And, most importantly, over her left shoulder, the moon. A hunter's moon, big and low in the sky, carried with her from her life to his. Her gift to him, shared many times in the past across distance and time. He stepped aside to invite her in and finally, at last.....

Ease.

[This is another attempt at a story based on one word "uneasiness". I had no particular person or place in mind, just the anticipation and "unease" of meeting someone for the first time. The word was, of course, provided by my poetic friend from Portugal, to whom I owe much.]

The Very Best Intentions

Yesterday a friend from Amsterdam asked me what my intentions were for the new year. I took his question as meaning the resolutions we all try to make every year. Another friend made a comment about how so much that we plan is often "next week, next year, later, another day". Things planned but very often not completed. I never make resolutions, simply because I don't like disappointing myself or making promises I can't keep.

However, this year I've decided to make three promises to myself. Nothing earth-shattering, nothing that will require herculean efforts, nothing that will save the world. Just three things that I will complete in the new year.

• I will finish THE BOOK. It may never be published but it will be completed by the end of next year.
• I will travel to Santa Fe to discover if this is the home that is calling my name.
• I will learn to sculpt in copper. This is now a must as I've promised the first piece to my poetic friend in Portugal.

See, very easy. Now, your turn. Tell me three things you WILL do in the new year. I'm hoping it's a wonderful one for all of us. Happy New Year!

She Sits and Waits

The following link is something I wrote this morning that was just published on Associated Content this afternoon. It isnt my normal writing and was written for someone who is working her way through loss. Forgive me for stepping out of the norm, but the words just came to me and I felt the need to put them out there.

She Sits and Waits

Life Is

It's late again. I was restless earlier and decided to take myself out to the chair on the porch for a musing. I've missed the chair on the porch. Almost every night during the summer I'd taken myself out there to think, to be alone, to breathe. I needed to think tonight and so after making myself a warm drink and bundling up, I braved the cold. And it was cold...and clear, beautiful and peaceful.

As I sat there letting the cold air settle around me, I recalled a question a friend had asked me earlier in the day, "How is life treating you?". I recall I gave a simple standard answer, "Just fine" to such a profound question. And that got me to thinking, it isn't so much how life is treating me but the way in which I am regarding life. No life is ideal, mine least of all. Can you imagine a life so perfect that there would be nothing new to look forward to, nothing to cause excitement, nothing to make you think, to decide, to feel, no new opportunities or risks. How very boring and sterile an environment that would be.

I've treated life badly in the past. Buried it under worry, anger, resentment, sorrow, apathy, doubt and self-pity. I've completely missed beautiful days, happy occasions, moments of peace, because of my refusal to see beyond the curtain I'd placed between myself and my life. Days upon days have disappeared, never to be given back. But no longer and not for some time now. It isn't that I don't have worries, doubts or bad days anymore. It isn't that I don't cry, feel sorrow or anger. Its simply that I've accepted that these things are just parts of my life, not the whole package and I've realized that I can see beyond them now.

This better treatment of life has opened up worlds for me. I write, I laugh, I wake up happy. I've opened my life up to new people, new places, new experiences. I'm fierce, fearless and more gentle. I take more risks, just so I won't have to wonder "what if" ever again. I welcome what life sends my way now. It is, after all, the only one I have and I will treat it well.

Life is.....what I make of it everyday. Its my choice to welcome it or to let it slip away. I won't let it slip away from me again.

December Eyes and Ears

This month there has been no book reading, no movie watching and no new music purchased. Too much going on, too many places to be, too many things to do. However, that doesn't mean that I haven't read, watched or listened to anything new, just in a bit of a different format for December. This is also a thank you to so many for the gifts they've unknowingly given me this month.

Reading:

*The poetry of a friend from Portugal whose words stir the air. Always beautiful, sometimes puzzling but always powerful. His link is to the right under my favorites places - Lerrnst. *The words of a friend from Australia who happened to mention that she had started to read my blog. She is struggling with something difficult and told me that my words had been her escape at night. I've thanked her but I don't know if she realizes the magnitude of the gift she has given me. *The family Christmas book my niece created for the second year in a row. Memories created by a young woman expecting her first child, creating her own family traditions. *The Pittsburgh Short Stories that my niece, nephew and myself have written for our friend Solan in Norway. I read them often, marveling at the tales that come out of sitting in a circle with two children and trading ideas back and forth.

Listening to:

*The remembered sound of the voice of a friend from Germany. He is absent for the moment, but I carry his voice with me always. *The radio broadcasts of two friends, one from North Carolina and one from Scotland. Diverse music from different parts of the world. *Another new friend from Portugal whose music, played on Blip.FM, makes me sit up and take notice. *The infectious laughter of a friend from California that I recently met on Twitter. She makes me laugh so hard, I cry. *The soft voice of a wonderful friend in Michigan, who is always there when I need her. *The sound of water, air and wind chimes on a download that a friend from Alabama created specifically for me, for the nights when I can't fall asleep.

Watching:

*This part has been easy. December is a great month for watching. Christmas lights, snow, smoke from chimneys, slate-gray morning skies, black-barked trees outlined in white, red birds, decorated trees viewed through warm window light, clear ink-blue night skies, bright eyes, festive store windows, candlelight, stained glass in church windows, and so much more.

The new year will bring more books, music and movies to enjoy. For now, this is all I need. So, what have YOU been listening to, watching or reading this month?

The Pittsburgh Short Stories (#3)

THE MAGICAL MARIONETTE

Story by:

Justice Andrew

Shelby Ann

Auntie Di

Once upon a time there was a handsome man named Robert who lived in a beautiful old house in the city of Paris. His home was filled with singing birds and pretty things. The house sat in a large green field full of flowers. At the end of the field was a shady birch forest. Robert was a puppeteer who also made all of his marionettes. Robert lived alone with the marionettes. He was a shy man who had never met anyone with whom to share his beautiful home. His favorite marionette was one named Timothy. Every week he would take Timothy and go to visit sick children in the hospital. There he and Timothy would perform plays for the children, making them laugh and forget that they were sick and away from their families.

Robert came to know all the children by name and they looked forward to his visits with Timothy. One day Robert noticed a beautiful woman sitting alone by the bedside of a little girl named Olivia. Olivia had just come to the hospital and was very sick. He walked over to the beautiful woman and started talking to her. He found out that the woman was Olivia's mother and that they were all alone in the world with no family. She told Robert that Olivia was very sick and she was very worried.

The next day was Christmas Eve and Robert had planned a special holiday performance for the children for that night. He said good night to the beautiful woman, wished Olivia good dreams and said that he would see them both the next evening. He took Timothy to the children's playroom and placed him gently in a corner as a reminder to the children that he would be back on Christmas Eve and then left for the night.

Later that night the beautiful woman, who had still been sitting by her daughter's bedside, took a walk into the playroom. She sat down on the floor and saw Timothy sitting in the corner beside her. She picked him up and held him close to her. As she sat there thinking about her daughter, she started to cry, praying and wishing that her daughter would be well. As she cried, her tears fell on Timothy. After a while, she placed Timothy back in his corner and got up to go back to her daughter. As she walked away she glanced back at Timothy and noticed that his features were somehow softer and more gentle.

Late in the night, the beautiful woman fell asleep by Olivia's bedside. When she woke the next morning she found Olivia sitting up in her bed, smiling and healthy. Held closely in her arms was Timothy the marionette. The woman knew she had left Timothy in the playroom and couldn't imagine how he had gotten into Olivia's room. As she looked more closely, she saw what looked like tiny teardrops which had become a part of Timothy's face. When Robert came to the hospital that Christmas Eve night, the beautiful woman gave him the wonderful news that Olivia was well and happy. She also told him how Timothy had taken her tears and carried them through the night until Olivia had woken up.

That Christmas Eve night, Robert and Timothy gave the best performance ever and the children loved it. Robert came to love the beautiful woman and Olivia. Before much time passed, they became a family. Robert was no longer alone in his beautiful house. The sound of Olivia's laughter and the voice of the beautiful woman filled the empty spaces. Robert continued to visit the sick children every week, but now did so with his family. And Timothy, the magical marionette, was still the favorite and would forever be so.

THE END

[Family is a BIG thing with my little co-authors, as well as myself. Justice & Shelby's intentions with this story were to have something magical happen and to have a happy ending for a family. I think they did a wonderful job. Thanks again to our friend Solan, who provided yet another glorious photograph around which to create. We love you! ]

The Box

A young man of twenty sat at a workbench slowly and carefully carving an intricate design into the top of a wooden box. He had no pattern, no specific idea in mind when he started carving, just the knowledge that he was creating something for someone special, but not even knowing whom.

A few years later the young man met and married the woman he knew he'd been searching for and gave her the box on their wedding day. They both decided that every day, they would each write a little note at the end of the day and place it in the box. Simple words to close each day, whether important or silly, just as reminders of their life together.

As years went by, the box filled with slips of paper. Bits and pieces of I love yous, births, deaths, bad days and good, contentment and worries, anger and understanding, sorrows and joys, passion and pain. They read each other's notes each night and placed them in the box, never to be read again. The years went by quickly. Children grew, moved away and married. Life slowed for the once young couple but the notes continued. Every night before bed, they traded tiny bits of paper, read them, smiled over them, worried over them, sometimes fought over them and in the end placed them in the box.

Years later the now ninety-year old man found himself alone. Children busy with their own lives and his wife taken from him long ago. But even after his wife had gone, the man continued to write notes each night, little conversations to her, reminders of his love, his way of keeping her close in his heart. One night as he opened the box to place his note inside, he realized that this would be last one he would write. And it was.

His children came home and found a letter from their father sitting on top of a carved wooden box, the wood softly worn smooth over the years by the touch of loving hands. In his letter, he asked his children to open the box and read the notes. They did as he asked and discovered that day not simply bits and pieces of their parent's lives but proof of two lives lived fully and with love. Life and love folded and held gently in a carved white wooden box.

[This story is inspired by a poetic friend who challenged me to write a story based on one word - BOX. I've done my best and hope to do even better with future challenges. Thank you again for the push.]

The Party of the Year

As I've mentioned previously, I have a very large family. Three brothers and three sisters, all with children and some grand-children of their own. Every year we get together before Christmas for a family party. You might ask, why a party before Christmas when we're all going to be together on that day anyway? Christmas is a hectic day with everyone visiting parents, in-laws, grand-parents, comings and goings at my parent's home all day. With the party, we can all meet at the same place, same time for some relaxed fun. And oh, we do have fun.

This year's party was at the home of one of my sisters. There were thirty-four of us this year, four were missing, unable to travel back to Pennsylvania for the party. Thirty-four loud, laughing, happy people in one house. We always have the most wonderful food at these parties from appetizers to main courses to desserts and the spirits flow freely. Champagne punch, a full bar, wine and special beer. Cigars outside by the fire-pit, standing in the cold laughing and talking. Everywhere you look, smiles.

I have also mentioned before that we have a tradition that has been going on for over thirty years. Each year for the party, EVERY one in the family makes a Christmas ornament, EVERY year. From the youngest to the oldest, they've all been beautiful and some have been amazing, with lights and moving parts. My father is a carpenter and his ornaments are always the sought after ones. They are hand-crafted and intricate with much time spent in the creation of them. I've only gotten one of his, but all those I have received are treasured to this day and make an appearance each Christmas.

My six year old nephew came to the party dressed in a Santa suit and my two great-nieces, the latest additions to the family, were dressed in their holiday finery. Adorable and sweet and taking it all in with eyes filled with wonder. Memories in the making for them, never to be forgotten. All the great-aunties taking their turn holding them and introducing them to new sights and sounds. Whispering and singing softly into their ears. We played games, ate, drank, posed for photos, opened gifts, cried at times, laughed and ate again.

By the end of the evening the adults were happy but tired and the children were happy and fueled by the sugar from cookies and candy. Please enjoy the slide show below as a little peek into the party of the year for my family. For family members who are reading, more photos will be added as I receive them. As you can see, a good time was had by all. And no, I'm not in any of the photos ;-)

In The Wee Hours

Once a month, I spend an all-nighter on Twitter with a friend from Scotland. He's an insomniac and we keep each other company through the night. We call it a competition to see who can stay up the longest, but there is never a winner or loser. I know, why would anyone elect to purposely push the limits of the need for sleep. I've found that it's actually worth the effort.

I've discovered that these evenings have become very productive ones. I get much reading done, things I haven't been able to get to in the everyday. One time I alphabetized my music collection (its extensive and needed to be done). I've written letters to friends, not emails, real letters and enjoyed doing it. Tonight I'm spending more time reading the poetry of a friend from a beautiful old city. I haven't had as much time with his words as I would like so, I am taking advantage of this gifted time tonight to lose myself in them.

Those of you who know me well, know that music is a big part of who I am. On these nights, music fills the air for the first few hours. Anything and everything. This is again another gifted opportunity to listen carefully to music choices I've gathered from friends over the weeks and to revisit some of my favorite music. One night I listened to the complete Led Zeppelin studio recordings from start to finish. Sublime.

In the summer months, I've moved myself out to the porch in the early hours to sit with feet up to watch the moon travel across the sky. Those nights are the best, peaceful and quiet. Standing from my third floor looking out over the sleeping houses, perhaps catching the sound of a laugh from an open window. During these nights I find myself, not lonely, but wishing with greater desire to have certain loved ones there with me at that very moment. Those with whom I wish to share those moments of peace, to see my smile reflected in their eyes.

It is 2:00am as I sit here typing. It's quiet and the light is soft. Candles and Christmas lights the only illumination. Ottmar Liebert's The Scent of Light is playing softly in the background. I've read Robin Robertson's A Painted Field cover to cover and also a little Rimbaud, baked cookies, laughed uproariously with a friend on the phone and did some much needed contemplative thinking. I watched a movie, The Pillow Book, and framed some photographs. Sanctuary.

I have several hours left in the "competition" and I'm not sure that I will actually make it to the end this time. But once again, I thoroughly enjoyed myself and my own company along with the gift of time and clarity.

The Gift of the Monarch

I've wanted to put this story into words for some time now. I've always hesitated because it is so personal and because I thought it might bring sadness to others. But, at this time of year, so close to Christmas, my thoughts are with my sister-in-law Susan and how much myself and my family miss her. These words aren't meant to bring sadness but simply as a reminder of the joy of having had her in our lives. It's my way of thanking her for all she did for me.

When Susan died in May of last year, her loss was profound and devastating to my family. We all struggled to find a way to come to terms with her death and still do to this day. We all searched for signs, for affirmations, something to assure us that our world would stop tilting and right itself again. We wanted signs that the Susan we remembered was still present in some form, that we hadn't lost her completely.

I asked the same questions, looked for the same signs. One cloudy day while taking my daily walk, I remember talking to her and asking for something, anything to reassure me. Before the words could fully form in my mind, a ray of sunlight broke through the clouds and out of nowhere a Monarch butterfly flew so close to my face that I had to stop suddenly or run into it. It took my breath away and a feeling of peace the likes of which I had never felt before settled over me. Was this my sign or just a coincidence. I hadn't seen a Monarch in years but from that moment on I saw them in the most unusual places all that summer.

Later that summer at my family reunion, one of my cousins stopped me to ask how my brother was coping. As we talked, I mentioned that once or twice during the day, I had thought I'd heard Susan's laughter. Just as the words came from my mouth, a monarch flew between us and landed at my feet. I could do nothing but smile and think, there she is.

In October of last year I was walking with my nephew to the bottom of my parents yard, down to where the pine trees form the "cave", as my nephew has named it. He was five years old at the time. He was and still is extremely sensitive to the fact that Aunt Susan is gone. When we reached the cave he told me about how he had her picture by his bed every night and how much he missed her. I caught a flicker of something from the corner of my eye. Brushing by my shoulder was a Monarch, in October, in the chill autumn air.

When summer came this year, I expected to be bombarded by Monarch visits, but to no avail. My disappointment was great but I told myself that Susan knew I didn't need her presence as much as I had the year before and that perhaps she had moved on to help someone else find peace. Late this summer while I was sitting on my porch in the sun, thoughts of Susan suddenly came into my mind. This time with a little less sorrow and more smiles. I got up to go into the house for something to drink. As I came back out to the porch, there on the chair in which I'd just been sitting was a Monarch. Just sitting on the book that I'd left lying on the chair. Just a quick visit to say, I'm still here and always will be. I didn't see another one all the remainder of this last summer. But I didn't need to. I had my affirmation.

Whether the people we love have passed away or they're just far away from us, we have to believe in the hope that they know we love them and will always be looking for them, always holding them in our hearts. Whatever the reason for the Monarch, I will always think of it as a gift from Susan, her way of saying hello and an assurance that the world would right itself once more. And it has, because when I think of her now, it's with more smiles than tears. Thank you Susan.

Winter Adventures in Serendipity (#5)

Today was the last full day here in Serendipity. I woke early to snow and animals wanting out to play. I decided to get the chores over immediately, no coffee first. Fed the rabbits dogs cats birds, stoked the fire, brought more wood in and then sat on the garden wall in the snow. I'm not a camping kind of woman but I'm quite proud of myself for keeping a wood fire going 24 hours a day for five days. Quite an accomplishment.

Laziness & retrospection were the rule of thumb for the remainder of the day. I was feeling a little out of sorts and down and so decided to spend some quality time with my friends on Twitter. And I wasn't disappointed. I am increasingly amazed at the kindness, laughter, concern and camaraderie that I have experienced there from people who started out as complete strangers to me. People who know by the tone of my "words" that something isn't right, who can make me laugh out loud, who compliment and give respect, people who inspire me.

I have friends now from all over the world, from all walks of life, all with interesting stories to tell. People whom I've come to appreciate and look forward to "seeing" every day. The virtual friendships I've made are as sacred to me as any "real-life" ones could be. I spent the bulk of my time today conversing with a friend from Portugal. A poet who constantly amazes me with his ability to find the words to write everyday. His poetry is beautiful and evocative but it also challenges me and makes me think. I look forward to his daily poem, often with impatient foot tapping. I envy him as I struggle to find words tonight. But he is also a pleasure to talk with and he inspires me to continue to write. And, he makes me laugh.

So many friends, too many to name, but all appreciated. And while I prefer face-to-face communication, I am very grateful to have these people in my life, in any capacity.

It's now 7:25 pm. I need to bring more wood in for the night, the animals are all settled in, I have packing to do and a glass of Merlot is beckoning. Maybe I'll save the packing up for the morning and enjoy my last evening alone in Serendipity. I think a last final winter evening visit to the garden wall is also a requirement. It's a clear cold night. Go outside or look out your window. The first bright star you see will be the same one at which I will be looking. Enjoy the quiet pleasure of it as much as I will. A good night to you from Serendipity.

Winter Adventures in Serendipity (#4)

Today was a very quiet day, almost too quiet. As I sit here typing in a patch of bright sunlight, I can see the steel gray river through the trees. From my high vantage point it has the look of molten silver. It wasn't as cold today. Earlier in the day I took Gante the Great Dane down to the yard for another run. As he ran from one side of the yard to the other, I sat myself down on a swing on the hillside overlooking the river. No sounds but the squeak of the swing and wind in the trees. After I'd tired the dog out, I went and sat on the garden wall again and lost myself in thought, warm sun on lifted face.

I spent the rest of the afternoon talking to friends online and listening to music. What a slug I've become :-) I also felt the need to cook again, as I do when I stay here. Dinner will be a roast chicken, roasted herbed cremini mushrooms and carrots with polenta. That will be followed by coffee and chocolate cake, which I also felt the need to bake. And yes, I danced while I cooked. It's a requirement.

My plans for this evening will include another session on the garden wall after dark, some pampering, a movie and then maybe some writing. I may have been a slug today, but I was a happy one.

Winter Adventures in Serendipity (#3)

I woke very early today from a dream and to the sound of rain and a howling wind. I dream often and in great detail, so much detail that I keep a book by the bed so that when I wake, I can immediately write down what I remember before it fades away. I haven't had any dreams for weeks. They seem to have found me again along with my dream walkers. I'm happy to have them back.

After the care and feeding of the menagerie, I took myself and my hot tea out to the garden wall again. It had stopped raining but the wind was still strong and coming from the direction of the river. I closed my eyes and listened to the sighing of dry leaves being brushed against each other by the wind. The air was fresh and cool. The first perfect moment of the day.

The remainder of the day was occupied by phone calls, emails, thought of friends in distant places, communications with friends all over the world (gleaning inspiration as I go) and another fine dinner, if I do say so myself. Grilled salmon and asparagus with couscous, followed by cheescake. A happy house-sitters divine perfection.

At some point this evening, I will take myself to the wood stove, prop my feet up with a good book and an espresso and enjoy the pleasure of my own company once again.

Winter Adventures in Serendipity (#2)

My morning began by waking up to an almost cold wood stove. How dare I sleep and let the fire go out :) After 45 minutes of fighting with paper, kindling, logs that refused to burn and turning the air blue with bad words, I finally had a good fire going. I was quite proud of myself.

It was another cold morning but a beautiful one. The night had left everything covered in a sparkling white frost. Blue-jays and wrens were holding onto the feathery stalks of the tall grasses eating seeds and chattering. I sat watching out the window with feet up and a hot cup of tea until I remembered that 2 dogs, 4 cats, 5 rabbits and 2 birds needed to be fed as well.

I'm finding it more difficult this time to relax into solitude, to enjoy my own company. Perhaps it's simply because it's winter and time spent outdoors is limited. I'd fallen into an easy pattern during the week I spent here in the summer. Winter cabin-fever seems to have set in.

I was, however, able to accomplish a task that's been hanging over my head for weeks. Every year my family has an annual Christmas party before Christmas. For over thirty years each and every member of the family has hand-made a Christmas ornament for those parties, everyone/every year. The party is less than two weeks away so I used today to dig through my friend's craft boxes and I am happy to say that my ornament is finished. I'm quite pleased with it and very happy that I won't be doing this at the last minute next week.

As I sit here typing, rain has begun to fall, making everything dark and dreary outside. But inside, every animal in the menagerie is asleep, the aroma of a beautiful roast and vegetables cooking in the oven is wafting through the house, my favorite music is playing in the background and a new book of poetry by Seamus Heaney is waiting for me. Not such a bad day after all.

Winter Adventures in Serendipity (#1)

Day one in Serendipity began very early, five o'clock to be precise. You know that feeling of getting used to different surroundings, strange noises, trying to sleep without one's own pillow (forgotten at home) and the general worry that my apartment will burn to the ground while I am away! I will admit that I stayed up too late last night, first watching a movie and then reading the poetry of a friend from Portugal.

As I sat bleary-eyed waiting for my tea to brew, I glanced out the second story window at the back yard below me. I could see the icy gray of the river through bare black-barked trees and the thin watery sun making it's way up over the mountains. Tall feathery grasses bent into the wind and three black-eyed-susans bloomed stubbornly, defying winter. I had my tea and then another before donning my "farm" clothes to head out into the cold morning to feed the five waiting rabbits. The blue ribbon rabbit did not attempt an escape as he did the last time I was here, so that was a definite plus. I let Gante the Great Dane out into the yard and stood while he exuberantly ran figure eights around me. He had obviously had a great night's sleep.

Late afternoon brought blue skies and warmer sunshine. I took myself to the garden wall and sat watching the river below and the redbirds in the trees above me. As I sit here typing now, I am contemplating my dinner of steak cooked on the grill, saffron rice, fresh grilled vegetables and a smokey Merlot. After dinner, I will take myself and my wine to the garden wall again to sit and hunt the moon. And with luck, sleep and my missing dreams along with those who walk through them, will find their way back to me tonight.