winter

The morning comes slowly, white and grey. The mountains hidden - are they really there?  We can wander in darkness of night and the darkness of the day, with the grey places in our lives that we wander through as well.   I look behind me for traces of footprints- but they are gone.

windful sleepfulness

The wind blows by my window like a ghost train bound for nowhere. It lulls me to sleep and produces wild dreams of adventures and travel.  The morning comes and the wind has stilled giving the valley a clearness of detail so that each mountian top is sharp as a knife.  This range of mountains stablilizes the valley and each canyon carries a name inducing wonderlust and awe.

Road home

Long roads home not always without surprises of peach feathered skies with baby blue backdrops- changing always changing like our inner landscape.

Fire and Ice

A soul on fire and ice, a heart with fire and ice. A contrast lonesome, intense and unreplaceable by any other natural combination.