"Autumn suits you perfectly," a friend of mine wrote to me the other day when she saw photos from my everyday walks into the woods. Since the beginning of the season, I can't get enough of the simple beauty that surrounds me wherever I go – from the gorgeous golden colours of the leaves to the perfectly shaped squashes in the garden, raised from seeds, ready to be picked. The seasons change so effortlessly, without prompting that if I am not paying close attention, I might overlook all the wisdom the earth is offering to me each and every moment. 
I believe no other season teaches us so many profound lessons about life than fall does. And as I approach into a deeper season in my own life, I believe Autumn is my season. 
Knowing that each season is a journey of change and personal growth in preparation for another season in life, I feel that now I am right here where I would like to be, willingly trusting and appreciating the experience of the moment, letting life be life. 
I love the autumnal gentleness in the air, those misty rainy days when I can sit at home and watch the pearls of raindrops caught on golden leaves shining like crystals on the poetic light, unafraid of falling. A book in my hands. A blanket over my feet. An aroma of sage and butternut puree from the kitchen. A feeling of being warm, comforted, calm and sheltered. There is real beauty in ordinary life, in taking the living slowly and making space for the change.
In a wonderful essay, The Beauty Of the Ordinary, Pico Iyer reminds us of the autumn's special, golden lesson – "to cherish everything because it cannot last". "Autumn days," he writes, "are reminders of how much we cannot afford to take for granted, and how much there is to celebrate right now."
The older I get, the more I am in tune with this wise, golden, ordinary Autumn. 
I am completely open to the enduring lessons of the falling leaf. To learn humility and resilience from its ending. To cultivate an attitude of respect and gratitude. To see the magic in the little things. To stay whimsical and ordinary at the same time... 
In nature's timeless forms, I contemplate that nothing lasts forever and perhaps, the art of life lies in its ephemerality. I find this liberating. 




  • November 02, 2019

Golden Autumn



"Autumn suits you perfectly," a friend of mine wrote to me the other day when she saw photos from my everyday walks into the woods. Since the beginning of the season, I can't get enough of the simple beauty that surrounds me wherever I go – from the gorgeous golden colours of the leaves to the perfectly shaped squashes in the garden, raised from seeds, ready to be picked. The seasons change so effortlessly, without prompting that if I am not paying close attention, I might overlook all the wisdom the earth is offering to me each and every moment. 
I believe no other season teaches us so many profound lessons about life than fall does. And as I approach into a deeper season in my own life, I believe Autumn is my season. 
Knowing that each season is a journey of change and personal growth in preparation for another season in life, I feel that now I am right here where I would like to be, willingly trusting and appreciating the experience of the moment, letting life be life. 
I love the autumnal gentleness in the air, those misty rainy days when I can sit at home and watch the pearls of raindrops caught on golden leaves shining like crystals on the poetic light, unafraid of falling. A book in my hands. A blanket over my feet. An aroma of sage and butternut puree from the kitchen. A feeling of being warm, comforted, calm and sheltered. There is real beauty in ordinary life, in taking the living slowly and making space for the change.
In a wonderful essay, The Beauty Of the Ordinary, Pico Iyer reminds us of the autumn's special, golden lesson – "to cherish everything because it cannot last". "Autumn days," he writes, "are reminders of how much we cannot afford to take for granted, and how much there is to celebrate right now."
The older I get, the more I am in tune with this wise, golden, ordinary Autumn. 
I am completely open to the enduring lessons of the falling leaf. To learn humility and resilience from its ending. To cultivate an attitude of respect and gratitude. To see the magic in the little things. To stay whimsical and ordinary at the same time... 
In nature's timeless forms, I contemplate that nothing lasts forever and perhaps, the art of life lies in its ephemerality. I find this liberating. 




Rome is L O V E.
Not just because of the fact that if you spell the Italian word for Rome, "Roma" backwards, you will find "Amor" – meaning Love, but rather because of the fact that Rome is sure to cast a spell on you the minute you take your first steps on the city's winding cobblestone alleys. Gathering energy from ruins and relics of its past, from the splendor of its art, churches, and culture along with the glory of its cuisine and coffee, Rome possesses this powerful force in the Universe to make you look at it with the glistening eyes of a lover, eventually winning your love forever.  

I know that one man's Rome is not necessarily another's. 

My Rome is the one shining in the rising sun. If I am eager enough to get up early in the morning, it will reward me with the warm embrace of empty bridges, fragrant bakeries, and fresh laundries. I love to walk until my feet kill me and I can go no further. Lost somewhere among the maze-like cobblestones, I will then relax over the best espresso in the world in a café standing elbow-to-elbow with locals. I will then resume. Because in Rome, there is always a door of a newly discovered church to open with who-knows-what exquisite art or architecture within. There is always a little trattoria with the most delicious creamy pasta cacio e pepe to enjoy on a red checkered tablecloth. Or a gelateria with who-knows-what kind of dreamy flavorful ice cream to try. Or a fresh food market with seasonal produce and happy vendors, unveiling a true cultural experience of the Italian way of life... This city begs to be uncovered at every corner with happy accidents of everyday simple beauty.  

My Rome is the one that possesses the most beautiful old walls coated with every stunning shade of ochre, rust, and terracotta. From the hues of the ancient gold, through the earth tones of the clay pots, to the color of the dark coffee crema, Roman buildings are a visual feast for an artistic eye. In fact, following the legacy of Early Rome and the characteristics of past creative work, the regulation of the city of Rome limits the variety of colors building owners can use to paint the facades of the city. 

My Rome breathes with the pulse of the Vatican right in the center of its heart. This independent city-state offers some of the most memorable experiences possible. Overflowing with world-class Renaissance and Baroque masterpieces as well as grandiose architectural achievements, the Vatican can easily overwhelm if one lets it. If you show up at St. Peter's Square first thing in the morning with your tickets bought in advance, you will meet your tour guide, who will help you skip the long queue as you will have a rare chance to walk in the museum's corridors without the need of batling slow-moving crowds along the way. You will then be mesmerized inside of the Sistine Chaple by the breathtaking ceiling with the Creation of Adam and The Last Judgment by Michelangelo. Contemplating every single detail of it, you will have touched the untouchable, the absolute, the eternal...   
When you enter the magnificent St. Peter's Basilica and turn on the right-hand side, you will find yourself breathless in front of one of the world's most famous sculptures, carved and sighed by the 24-year-old genius, Michelangelo Buonarroti. Pietà depicts Mother Mary, holding Jesus' lifeless body on her lap. Observing all the beautiful lines, the expressions of the faces, the softly-falling light, you cannot help but feel the greatest human suffering alongside the greatest human love. You are in awe, your heart is filled with tender and astonishment as you shrink to a tiny mote of dust, insignificant to the Universe. 

My Rome is Bernini
The Eternal City is a showroom of his remarkable sculptures, paintings, and architectural projects. He was a child prodigy. His dramatic and stormy genius is evident from the design of St. Peter's Square and the spectacular baldachin canopy over the altar of St. Peter's Basilica, through my favorite fountain, Fountain of the Four River in my favorite Piazza Navona, to his unforgettable, outstanding marble sculptures. Bernini is the one who can give life to a single piece of marble, turning the stone into real flesh and emotion. I will never forget the first time I laid my eyes on one of Bernini's most brilliant pieces of art, masterfully displayed at Borghese Gallery (one can get close enough to study it from different points of view), The Rape of Proserpina. According to Roman mythology, she was an ancient Roman goddess and was kidnapped and taken to the underworld by God Pluto, who had fallen madly in love with her. It took my breath away and I could not take my eyes from the stunning lifelike details, especially Pluto's fingers sunk into Proserpina's thigh... Bernini was only 23 years old...
The second most impressive thing to me about Bernini are the two simple pieces of carved marble on the floor to the right-hand side of the main altar of the beautiful Basilica Santa Maria Maggiore which are apparently his tomb. Not a grandiose monument, not an ornated sarcophagus with wreaths and sculptures with lavish elements – one can definitely miss it if he or she is not looking for it. After Bernini died in his home in Rome, he was buried with little public fanfare, in the simple, unadorned Bernini family vault, together with his parents. Food for thought, isn't it? 

My Rome is an art gallery where with every turn of my head, I can immerse in "work of art". Layers of history and amazing examples of Rome's greatness and effortless elegance (which Romans live and breath in) are looking at me with readiness to tell their secrets and share their love for life. 

My Rome is a Dolce Vita textbook. 
Forget the extravagance of modern life. Embrace the apparent contradictions of the capital city. Ignore the desire to visit everywhere and see everything. Wander the streets with no destination. Just sit and breath in every surprising discovery, in each bite of your Margherita and sip of fresh water from the "nasoni' drinking fountains, in every technique of the artist's paintbrush and every 'ciao' and 'prego', in every Vespa zooming around you... (OK, I know the Italians talk fast and drive even faster, yet among the many forms of arts, they also master the art of slow living).
If you simply try to spend your days in slowness, appreciating magnificent beauty and enjoying simple pleasures, Rome would love you for that. 
"Every moment deserves amore", I was told by the charming waiter while he was pouring wine in my glass. 

Sì! I allow myself to be seduced by places...

(click on each image to see it in detail) 




A Roma Con Amore

Rome is L O V E.
Not just because of the fact that if you spell the Italian word for Rome, "Roma" backwards, you will find "Amor" – meaning Love, but rather because of the fact that Rome is sure to cast a spell on you the minute you take your first steps on the city's winding cobblestone alleys. Gathering energy from ruins and relics of its past, from the splendor of its art, churches, and culture along with the glory of its cuisine and coffee, Rome possesses this powerful force in the Universe to make you look at it with the glistening eyes of a lover, eventually winning your love forever.  

I know that one man's Rome is not necessarily another's. 

My Rome is the one shining in the rising sun. If I am eager enough to get up early in the morning, it will reward me with the warm embrace of empty bridges, fragrant bakeries, and fresh laundries. I love to walk until my feet kill me and I can go no further. Lost somewhere among the maze-like cobblestones, I will then relax over the best espresso in the world in a café standing elbow-to-elbow with locals. I will then resume. Because in Rome, there is always a door of a newly discovered church to open with who-knows-what exquisite art or architecture within. There is always a little trattoria with the most delicious creamy pasta cacio e pepe to enjoy on a red checkered tablecloth. Or a gelateria with who-knows-what kind of dreamy flavorful ice cream to try. Or a fresh food market with seasonal produce and happy vendors, unveiling a true cultural experience of the Italian way of life... This city begs to be uncovered at every corner with happy accidents of everyday simple beauty.  

My Rome is the one that possesses the most beautiful old walls coated with every stunning shade of ochre, rust, and terracotta. From the hues of the ancient gold, through the earth tones of the clay pots, to the color of the dark coffee crema, Roman buildings are a visual feast for an artistic eye. In fact, following the legacy of Early Rome and the characteristics of past creative work, the regulation of the city of Rome limits the variety of colors building owners can use to paint the facades of the city. 

My Rome breathes with the pulse of the Vatican right in the center of its heart. This independent city-state offers some of the most memorable experiences possible. Overflowing with world-class Renaissance and Baroque masterpieces as well as grandiose architectural achievements, the Vatican can easily overwhelm if one lets it. If you show up at St. Peter's Square first thing in the morning with your tickets bought in advance, you will meet your tour guide, who will help you skip the long queue as you will have a rare chance to walk in the museum's corridors without the need of batling slow-moving crowds along the way. You will then be mesmerized inside of the Sistine Chaple by the breathtaking ceiling with the Creation of Adam and The Last Judgment by Michelangelo. Contemplating every single detail of it, you will have touched the untouchable, the absolute, the eternal...   
When you enter the magnificent St. Peter's Basilica and turn on the right-hand side, you will find yourself breathless in front of one of the world's most famous sculptures, carved and sighed by the 24-year-old genius, Michelangelo Buonarroti. Pietà depicts Mother Mary, holding Jesus' lifeless body on her lap. Observing all the beautiful lines, the expressions of the faces, the softly-falling light, you cannot help but feel the greatest human suffering alongside the greatest human love. You are in awe, your heart is filled with tender and astonishment as you shrink to a tiny mote of dust, insignificant to the Universe. 

My Rome is Bernini
The Eternal City is a showroom of his remarkable sculptures, paintings, and architectural projects. He was a child prodigy. His dramatic and stormy genius is evident from the design of St. Peter's Square and the spectacular baldachin canopy over the altar of St. Peter's Basilica, through my favorite fountain, Fountain of the Four River in my favorite Piazza Navona, to his unforgettable, outstanding marble sculptures. Bernini is the one who can give life to a single piece of marble, turning the stone into real flesh and emotion. I will never forget the first time I laid my eyes on one of Bernini's most brilliant pieces of art, masterfully displayed at Borghese Gallery (one can get close enough to study it from different points of view), The Rape of Proserpina. According to Roman mythology, she was an ancient Roman goddess and was kidnapped and taken to the underworld by God Pluto, who had fallen madly in love with her. It took my breath away and I could not take my eyes from the stunning lifelike details, especially Pluto's fingers sunk into Proserpina's thigh... Bernini was only 23 years old...
The second most impressive thing to me about Bernini are the two simple pieces of carved marble on the floor to the right-hand side of the main altar of the beautiful Basilica Santa Maria Maggiore which are apparently his tomb. Not a grandiose monument, not an ornated sarcophagus with wreaths and sculptures with lavish elements – one can definitely miss it if he or she is not looking for it. After Bernini died in his home in Rome, he was buried with little public fanfare, in the simple, unadorned Bernini family vault, together with his parents. Food for thought, isn't it? 

My Rome is an art gallery where with every turn of my head, I can immerse in "work of art". Layers of history and amazing examples of Rome's greatness and effortless elegance (which Romans live and breath in) are looking at me with readiness to tell their secrets and share their love for life. 

My Rome is a Dolce Vita textbook. 
Forget the extravagance of modern life. Embrace the apparent contradictions of the capital city. Ignore the desire to visit everywhere and see everything. Wander the streets with no destination. Just sit and breath in every surprising discovery, in each bite of your Margherita and sip of fresh water from the "nasoni' drinking fountains, in every technique of the artist's paintbrush and every 'ciao' and 'prego', in every Vespa zooming around you... (OK, I know the Italians talk fast and drive even faster, yet among the many forms of arts, they also master the art of slow living).
If you simply try to spend your days in slowness, appreciating magnificent beauty and enjoying simple pleasures, Rome would love you for that. 
"Every moment deserves amore", I was told by the charming waiter while he was pouring wine in my glass. 

Sì! I allow myself to be seduced by places...

(click on each image to see it in detail) 





In the heart of Adams Morgan, one of the most diverse, eclectic and full of unique history neighborhoods of Washington, DC, stands a century-old and concrete-heavy building that had recently been transformed into one of the best hotels in the US capital. Who could have thought that a Neoclassical church, sitting empty for 25 years, could be so perfect for a hotel? And not just a hotel, but rather a space for the creative community to use, free of charge.
These days, the wonderful arches and soaring ceilings, the spiky chandelier made of the church organ's pipes, the beautifully-arrayed windows, the dynamic lobby with long communal tables and the podcast network studio make this space a model of originality and thoughtful design with an artistic sense of detail. Unlike the welcoming common area which stimulates interaction and socializing, the rooms are carefully designed to create a sense of home and calm; each has been furnished with vintage furniture, beautiful light-fittings, books and curated local artwork by Washington-area artists, of which 90 percent are women. In our room, I particularly enjoyed a black and white photograph of the First Ladies chatting and drinking wine at a social event. 

"I am going to give you the best available room right now," promised the friendly young man at the reception. And he didn't disappoint.
And when there was low water pressure on our floor, he compensated us with a free breakfast at one of their restaurants led by award-winning chefs. I can still hear the manager of the hotel saying to us, " It is not a problem. I will take care of everything!"

To those of you, who worship elegant design, delicious food and coffee, and beautiful music, and especially to those who support thoughtful business practices rooted in communities and creativity, I encourage you to plan a stay at The LINE DC when you visit Washington, DC next time. There are too many reasons to fall in love with the place, I promise.




The LINE DC
1770 Euclid Street  NW, Washington, DC 20009



/This is not a paid ad and all opinions are my own/  



The LINE DC


In the heart of Adams Morgan, one of the most diverse, eclectic and full of unique history neighborhoods of Washington, DC, stands a century-old and concrete-heavy building that had recently been transformed into one of the best hotels in the US capital. Who could have thought that a Neoclassical church, sitting empty for 25 years, could be so perfect for a hotel? And not just a hotel, but rather a space for the creative community to use, free of charge.
These days, the wonderful arches and soaring ceilings, the spiky chandelier made of the church organ's pipes, the beautifully-arrayed windows, the dynamic lobby with long communal tables and the podcast network studio make this space a model of originality and thoughtful design with an artistic sense of detail. Unlike the welcoming common area which stimulates interaction and socializing, the rooms are carefully designed to create a sense of home and calm; each has been furnished with vintage furniture, beautiful light-fittings, books and curated local artwork by Washington-area artists, of which 90 percent are women. In our room, I particularly enjoyed a black and white photograph of the First Ladies chatting and drinking wine at a social event. 

"I am going to give you the best available room right now," promised the friendly young man at the reception. And he didn't disappoint.
And when there was low water pressure on our floor, he compensated us with a free breakfast at one of their restaurants led by award-winning chefs. I can still hear the manager of the hotel saying to us, " It is not a problem. I will take care of everything!"

To those of you, who worship elegant design, delicious food and coffee, and beautiful music, and especially to those who support thoughtful business practices rooted in communities and creativity, I encourage you to plan a stay at The LINE DC when you visit Washington, DC next time. There are too many reasons to fall in love with the place, I promise.




The LINE DC
1770 Euclid Street  NW, Washington, DC 20009



/This is not a paid ad and all opinions are my own/  




As I was marching through the 3rd floor of the Smithsonian's National Portrait Gallery to the 20th-Century Americans to see the Amy Sherald painting of Michele Obama, a lovely young lady, wearing an embroidered kimono-like costume, slowly approached me with the question, "May I give you the gift of song?". Usually, I don't like stopping at people offering me products or asking me to participate in something, but this time everything seemed different – I was in a gallery, I heard the words gift and song and in my mind they sounded so beautiful and romantic that without much thinking, not knowing what to expect, I replied "Yes! I would love to have the gift of song."
Next, the pretty lady, obviously a singer, invited me with a slow but sure gesture to follow her to the Great Hall of the gallery and sit on the chair positioned in the middle of one side of the space. She moved about 7 feet away from me, turned around to face me, looked straight into my eyes, took a deep breath and following the short piano introduction, began to sing. Her wonderful soprano voice like a sea wave approaching a sandy shore filled the entire hall. She was singing in German, which I don't understand, but it didn't matter to me because the lyrical, slow-moving melody, familiar to me, had quickly reached my sitting body and wrapped it in a warm, long, caring hug.
I have always had this 'strange' relationship with music, when very often classical pieces and few songs, with their melodic, harmonic modulations, play with my body by sending tingles down my spine, bringing a lump to my throat and making my eyes brim with tears. I can't explain this game. I know, it doesn't have anything to do with personal memories and association with events. It is uncontrollable and at times can be very uncomfortable. It just happens and it was going to happen again, I was sure.
However, this time I didn't let it go to that extent. In other words, I somehow managed not to cry despite the sensations. I was fully present and completely aware of my emotions and my surrounding. I didn't think, so I didn't judge, but I FELT. In a matter of the song's first line, the melody, the light, the singer, the energy of the gallery, the air in the hall, the breathing of others, every fibre of my being merged into an unbounded eternity. Every single thing became one with the totality of the experience. I was seeing only the singer but was sensing the whole universe. There was no space or time anymore. I was there, but I was also in another dimension. One that I believe is called ONENESS – known within the heart and felt in the soul. It was special. It was moving. And intimate. And unforgettable. And powerful. And blissful... And so many other wonderful and unexplainable things, all at once.
It was the gift of a song.
It was the gift of Art.
It was Washington in the S P R I N G.






I later learned that in honour of its 50th Anniversary, the National Portrait Gallery during April (from April 5 to 29) is presenting "IDENTITY" series, SONIC BLOSSOM – a critically acclaimed participatory performance artwork by New York- and Paris-based artist Lee Mingwei, in which the audience becomes part of and engages in the creative process. It is about triggering and representing relationships, connections, trust, and willingness to share an experience with strangers at a specific place, a specific time. When Lee was a child, his mother would play lieder by Franz Schubert at a low volume teaching him how to be still and quiet to be able to hear the music. Later, when he took care of her while she was recovering from heart surgery, he played Schubert's lieder for her and they both found great beauty and comfort in his music. This is the first time Lee's work is presented in Washington, DC during the Cherry Blossom season (and without any planning, just with the power of life's everyday magic, I happened to be there).
I am extremely grateful to singer Molly Pinson Simoneau for choosing me on the opening day of the performance and giving me the most beautiful in my opinion Schubert's lied as a precious, unforgettable gift.
You can read more about Sonic Blossom here and here

Washington DC, Pretty In Spring Blossoms


As I was marching through the 3rd floor of the Smithsonian's National Portrait Gallery to the 20th-Century Americans to see the Amy Sherald painting of Michele Obama, a lovely young lady, wearing an embroidered kimono-like costume, slowly approached me with the question, "May I give you the gift of song?". Usually, I don't like stopping at people offering me products or asking me to participate in something, but this time everything seemed different – I was in a gallery, I heard the words gift and song and in my mind they sounded so beautiful and romantic that without much thinking, not knowing what to expect, I replied "Yes! I would love to have the gift of song."
Next, the pretty lady, obviously a singer, invited me with a slow but sure gesture to follow her to the Great Hall of the gallery and sit on the chair positioned in the middle of one side of the space. She moved about 7 feet away from me, turned around to face me, looked straight into my eyes, took a deep breath and following the short piano introduction, began to sing. Her wonderful soprano voice like a sea wave approaching a sandy shore filled the entire hall. She was singing in German, which I don't understand, but it didn't matter to me because the lyrical, slow-moving melody, familiar to me, had quickly reached my sitting body and wrapped it in a warm, long, caring hug.
I have always had this 'strange' relationship with music, when very often classical pieces and few songs, with their melodic, harmonic modulations, play with my body by sending tingles down my spine, bringing a lump to my throat and making my eyes brim with tears. I can't explain this game. I know, it doesn't have anything to do with personal memories and association with events. It is uncontrollable and at times can be very uncomfortable. It just happens and it was going to happen again, I was sure.
However, this time I didn't let it go to that extent. In other words, I somehow managed not to cry despite the sensations. I was fully present and completely aware of my emotions and my surrounding. I didn't think, so I didn't judge, but I FELT. In a matter of the song's first line, the melody, the light, the singer, the energy of the gallery, the air in the hall, the breathing of others, every fibre of my being merged into an unbounded eternity. Every single thing became one with the totality of the experience. I was seeing only the singer but was sensing the whole universe. There was no space or time anymore. I was there, but I was also in another dimension. One that I believe is called ONENESS – known within the heart and felt in the soul. It was special. It was moving. And intimate. And unforgettable. And powerful. And blissful... And so many other wonderful and unexplainable things, all at once.
It was the gift of a song.
It was the gift of Art.
It was Washington in the S P R I N G.






I later learned that in honour of its 50th Anniversary, the National Portrait Gallery during April (from April 5 to 29) is presenting "IDENTITY" series, SONIC BLOSSOM – a critically acclaimed participatory performance artwork by New York- and Paris-based artist Lee Mingwei, in which the audience becomes part of and engages in the creative process. It is about triggering and representing relationships, connections, trust, and willingness to share an experience with strangers at a specific place, a specific time. When Lee was a child, his mother would play lieder by Franz Schubert at a low volume teaching him how to be still and quiet to be able to hear the music. Later, when he took care of her while she was recovering from heart surgery, he played Schubert's lieder for her and they both found great beauty and comfort in his music. This is the first time Lee's work is presented in Washington, DC during the Cherry Blossom season (and without any planning, just with the power of life's everyday magic, I happened to be there).
I am extremely grateful to singer Molly Pinson Simoneau for choosing me on the opening day of the performance and giving me the most beautiful in my opinion Schubert's lied as a precious, unforgettable gift.
You can read more about Sonic Blossom here and here


"Now in the spring I kneel, I put my face into the packets of violets, the dampness, the freshness, the sense of ever-ness. Something is wrong, I know it if I don't keep my attention on eternity. May I be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny but useful. May I stay forever in the stream. May I took down upon the windflower and the bull thistle and coreopsis with the greatest respect... 
Teach children. We don't matter so much, but the children do. Show them daisies and the pale hepatica. Teach them the taste of sassafras and wintergreen. The lives of the blue sailors, mallow, sunbursts, the moccasin flowers. And the frisky ones – inkberry, lamb's-quarters, blueberries. And the aromatic ones – rosemary, oregano. Give them peppermint to put in their pockets as they go to school. Give them the fields and the woods and the possibility of the world salvaged from the lords of profit. Stand them in the stream, head them upstream, rejoice as they learn to love this green space they live in, its sticks and leaves and then the silent, beautiful blossoms." 

Attention is the beginning of devotion."
                                                                                                                                                        Mary Oliver, Upstream      


Spring is on its way...
I am happy and ready to cross a threshold from a world of dull brown and stiff grey to the loveliness of soft greens, joyous yellows and deep blues that herald the fresh new season.
Everything smells
like endless hope and anticipation,
like childhood memories,
like morning dew and wet soil,
like awakening...
I finally feel at home in my own skin; at home on the face of the earth...
I feel this pleasant lightness and new clearness that make it easier for me to breathe and actually see.
Like a miniature imperfect blossom, my soul is arising from hibernation, furtively opening itself once again to the universal love of the world. Loving the world requires attention. Because – paying attention is the only thing that guarantees insight; the only thing that can heal the heart; the only thing that makes us see life's simple, yet amazing gifts.




Wishing you a splendid springtime. 




Botanical eggs, my son and I colored for Easter with yellow onion skin, blueberries, turmeric, and blossoms. 
Lemon Blueberry Bundt Cake recipe (with a few changes) from Live Well Bake Often 


Step into Springtime


"Now in the spring I kneel, I put my face into the packets of violets, the dampness, the freshness, the sense of ever-ness. Something is wrong, I know it if I don't keep my attention on eternity. May I be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny but useful. May I stay forever in the stream. May I took down upon the windflower and the bull thistle and coreopsis with the greatest respect... 
Teach children. We don't matter so much, but the children do. Show them daisies and the pale hepatica. Teach them the taste of sassafras and wintergreen. The lives of the blue sailors, mallow, sunbursts, the moccasin flowers. And the frisky ones – inkberry, lamb's-quarters, blueberries. And the aromatic ones – rosemary, oregano. Give them peppermint to put in their pockets as they go to school. Give them the fields and the woods and the possibility of the world salvaged from the lords of profit. Stand them in the stream, head them upstream, rejoice as they learn to love this green space they live in, its sticks and leaves and then the silent, beautiful blossoms." 

Attention is the beginning of devotion."
                                                                                                                                                        Mary Oliver, Upstream      


Spring is on its way...
I am happy and ready to cross a threshold from a world of dull brown and stiff grey to the loveliness of soft greens, joyous yellows and deep blues that herald the fresh new season.
Everything smells
like endless hope and anticipation,
like childhood memories,
like morning dew and wet soil,
like awakening...
I finally feel at home in my own skin; at home on the face of the earth...
I feel this pleasant lightness and new clearness that make it easier for me to breathe and actually see.
Like a miniature imperfect blossom, my soul is arising from hibernation, furtively opening itself once again to the universal love of the world. Loving the world requires attention. Because – paying attention is the only thing that guarantees insight; the only thing that can heal the heart; the only thing that makes us see life's simple, yet amazing gifts.




Wishing you a splendid springtime. 




Botanical eggs, my son and I colored for Easter with yellow onion skin, blueberries, turmeric, and blossoms. 
Lemon Blueberry Bundt Cake recipe (with a few changes) from Live Well Bake Often