Rural

We had a visitor the other night. We get a revolving parade of animals some more welcome then others...this one was stealthy, while the other paraded down the street as if out for an afternoon stroll. One visitor made me smile with delight, the other...every so rudely ate the empty quail egg from my decorative bird's nest on my front porch.  And then it b umped into my heavy garden bench sitting by the front door and moved that a few feet, not my kind of visitor... I've got too many childhood encounters with bears to ever be comfortable with them this close. Camping, and living among their world has makes me observant, but cautious.  After eating the quail egg, the bear decided to try out the path to the front garden, and despite its size, not one blossom was bruised...I will give it that. The young buck was a visitor who waltzed down the street in front of our house. It's fuzzy two point antlers proudly held high, and it brought a smile to our faces...it was curious and bo...

Journals have fascinated me all of my life, I've longed to be the kind of person who managed to document their life in words and illustrations...someone creative, and visually inspired Like many things in life, I've had good intentions, although the more practical side of it seems to fall short. Sure, I've started a journal or two, or three....they seem to falter somewhere after day 7...maybe you are like me and you only get a few weeks or months written before real life steps in and distracts you. But a visual journal gives me a chance to share what it feels like to hike the nearby mountains, our breath foggy in the crisp cold air. To capture the sunlight peering through the towering branches of the fir trees. To record the early morning grind of rubber tires during a bike ride down a deserted and dusty country road. Wheels crunching on the gravel left behind by the snowplow, birds chirping in the trees overhead... a glimpse of a coyote a flash of amber dashing...