Tag: Singing Underneath
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Wild and Free
Sometimes life rhymes. And sometimes were fortunate to hear the “singing underneath“. Whence this siren song to live wild and free?
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Crescent Moon Haiku
Sometimes it’s the little things. Often, actually. Like this slender sliver of a crescent moon tipped sideways, a celestial smile. Like this volute capital — atop one of two ionic columns flanking Rosslyn’s front entrance — glowing warmly from the pendant light hanging above the stone landing. Like that improbable glow silhouetting the trees despite…
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Vernal Equinox: Barred Owl Sighting
Welcome to spring! It’s currently 43° at Rosslyn, on target to hit 46° shortly. Sun is out. Snow is melting. Bulbs are bursting. So many remarkable signs and suggestions that the vernal equinox may indeed have marked the transition from winter to spring (daffodils and daylilies perking up, an auspicious sunset cloud formation, a handsome…
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Epiphany on Epiphany: Shirley Bacot Shamel Day
Susan chuckled this morning after reminding me that her family hadn’t celebrated Epiphany when she was growing. I had reminded her that my family had, and for some reason she considers it slightly droll. It’s true that we did celebrate some holidays that my peers did not. I’m not certain why. In addition to Epiphany,…
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We Traveled Far and Wide Until We Found a Home
Almost two months ago I shared a reel on Instagram. I’m still new to reels, so I’ve been experimenting, playing really, exploring the potential. I actually really enjoy the ultra short format videos, and I’ve found the music matching and recommendation capacity provided by Instagram to be a little bit addictive. Sometimes the music recommended…
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Quest for Permission
I am on a quest for permission. Permission from Susan, from Rosslyn, even from family and friends. Most of all I am on a quest for permission from myself. This morning a serendipitous swirl of accidental-coincidental happenings helped me realize this. Chief among them (and the rightful recipients my profound gratitude) in the order they…
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October Rain
Sometimes it’s as if frames from two different films overlap. For a moment. Sometimes longer. Occasionally the overlapping images complement one another, but often the experience is jarring. Confusing. Unsettling. Seasons bleed into one another playfully, testing our agility, our resilience. Far-flung geographies, domiciles, and life stages muddle, merge, and drift apart again. Our worlds…