I am a child of the mountains. Early morning mists…bare feet in warm soil…fireflies in a summer sky… sweet intoxication of honeysuckle…birthed in me a romance with the beautiful, and with its Originator. They seduce me still.
In these pages, I write of this romance, this wrestling, this pursuit of the beautiful and the true. I tell stories. Some are sentimental and sweet, and some are very difficult. All have important bits of truth nestled within. And beauty…though sometimes you must dig for it.
I live a crazy wonderful life with crazy wonderful people. This usually keeps me too busy to write every day, but you are likely to find something new here 2 or 3 times each week.
If you are wondering whether or not we might be friends, sample a few of the posts below. This will give you an idea of what to expect. If you like what you find, subscribe via RSS and you won’t miss a thing.
(p.s. Posts from my previous blog were unfortunately transferred without comments. I’m not terribly tech savvy.)
In between, and sometimes in the middle of, the wife-ing and mothering, and grandmothering, I read. A lot. I also love spending time with friends. I have some pretty spectacular ones. They make me better than I am. I am passing fond of dark chocolate, raspberries, red wine, and Guinness. Solitude is an absolute necessity for my well-being. Art and Music nourish me, provoke and delight me. And, for the record, I love being a girl!!
Running is my favorite. I do it for my mental health as much as for my physical health. Five marathons. A Pikes Peak ascent. A 195 mile relay with friends. A triathlon and a duathlon. Plus a whole slew of half marathons and 10ks. Just this year I completed my first Ultra-marathon. A 50k in the Tetons of Wyoming. Wow!!
Each Sunday I enter the Kingdom of Heaven with beloved Orthodox brothers and sisters. Here we breathe, touch, and taste God. We see Him and we sing Him. This so penetrates and saturates my life that nothing is unchanged. And I need to be changed. So much that is dark and unholy resides in me. Walking the Way with these people is literally saving my life. Day after day after day.
I am too much in love with words. Some of my earliest–and sweetest–memories are of my mother reading to me. I have never quite gotten over it. The power of story. The power of words. They whisk me through time, around the world, or deep inside myself. I write them because often I do not know my own mind until I write it down.
The pressure disappeared with the first word he put on paper. He thought–while his hand moved rapidly–what a power there was in words; later, for those who heard them, but first for the one who found them; a healing power, a solution, like the breaking of a barrier. He thought, perhaps the basic secret the scientists have never discovered, the first fount of life, is that which happens when a thought takes shape in words.
~Ayn Rand from The Fountainhead
Here, I trust, you will find healing words. Sometimes they will be pretty. Often I hope. Sometimes they may be bitter and desperate. Always, to the best of my ability, they will be true.
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