my life in photographs

Let me have banjo and birdsong for as long as I shall live.

Each passing day is one day closer to soil, plants and flowers. Surviving winter comes first.

I feel like finding a soft piece of earth and sleeping the day away. Instead, I stretch my arms to the ceiling and yawn like a woman who has already grown bored of the week ahead. My heart howls for an adventure.

 A day without music-making has become barren like a mountainside with no lodge pole pines or an ocean with no waves.

Medicine for the mind.

 I happily played the Market Collective back in December. Thank you Brendan Kane for capturing this moment!

 The crying cloud grows pretty little flowers. You can tuck them away in a book or two, it's almost as if you've kept a bucket of honey hidden away from the sun and every time you see it, you feel like spring has sprung.

 I spent the entire night tossing around like a cotton dress in a washing machine. I have a to-do list longer than a growing evergreen, but I am alive. Yes I am.

The flower pressing station.

 The beauty of the world lives in a drop of warm coffee and a book to read.

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