The first tree I fell in love with was a southern magnolia.  That tree, as I recall, was absolutely huge - with low lying branches where a little girl could sit, sheltered from the Texas heat.  In the spring it produced giant, fragrant blossoms - larger than my hands - that gave off the most heavenly scent imaginable.  My mother used to put the blooms in bowls of water around the house so that the rooms would fill with the smell of magnolia. (more…)

My shoes don’t fit.  I don’t get it . . . shoes that fit me last spring are suddenly too short.  Being already on the verge of clown-sized feet, I’m the last person in the world who needed to up my shoe size.  Sure, I have experienced pants not fitting from year to year, or after a little too much holiday cheer, but come on . . . shoes? (more…)

It seems a fitting topic on Easter eve to reflect on new life.  After all, the theme echoes through the resurrection, through Mother Nature and through the often daunting and ever timeless task of raising children.  My 17 year old daughter Elizabeth has been, her whole life, on the front lines of new life . . . leading me further along the path of loving and letting go. (more…)

Spring has sprung here in New England . . . or rather winter has ended, more or less.  Some days are surprisingly warm and sunny.  Other days are soggy and muddy.  It appears that the Easter bunny will not be leaving eggs nestled in snow clumps this year. (more…)

“Why are so many lights on?” Dan used to ask when we were new to each other’s living habits.  “Because I can’t see a thing,” I would answer.  My typical response to winter nights was to turn on every light that I could get my hands on . . . starting at 4pm.  Even mounting electric bills couldn’t curb my craving for brightly lit rooms. (more…)