Finding Home

Dear friends.

Sense of place. Good morning from sunny Vermont. Last Friday night I packed in a hurry, tugging clothing out of my dresser drawers and closet without the time to think about what I’d need to see me through the long weekend. Which is how I ended up with five jackets and only one long-sleeved shirt. My distraction cleared as I left town and headed East Saturday morning, driving through stunning scenes of New England foliage and bright blue sky, the kind of scenes where you wonder if God cropped.

Once again, the ocean delivered. Do you know what I did when I saw the water? Cried–a full out, all of a sudden kind of cry. My unexpected release as I found home. I walked the shore, found a flat surface on a craggy rock and stared mindlessly, and found a bench with my dear friend Jean and watched the jade colored waves crash into the Cape Elizabeth shore.

And I wrote. A letter to another dear friend, Joan, a new page in my art journal, and a few pages in Quill Point. To those of you who wondered, I

Processed with VSCO

Processed with VSCO

did find something that bested “public good” and it works into my story seamlessly. All I needed was a prompt from yet another dear friend, Amy. Right now, Eva’s about to tackle three Romance languages at once, all the while doodling on her study papers as she learns. Finn thinks she’s crazy. They even argue about it.

What happens to us when we clear a path to unlimited learning? What happens when we put aside the worries and confusion and ill health and the chores and the being pressed for time, and allow something new to find its way into our brain? For me there’s the physical sense of a combination lock being met, a click to awareness. That’s a fine sound.

What happens to you? Check back next week for another segment of Finding Home.




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Down to Earth

Finding Home


Finding Home

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