Across the hollow, off to the left of our deck, one singular tree has blushed a very soft green. On the forest floor, tiny white and lavender wildflowers hold up fragile petals to the sun.
For the past two weeks or more, we’ve had cold weather day and night. Spring took a brief vacation south. Everything she had been coaxing up from the ground here simply stopped and stood still, waiting. Impatient asparagus spears poked up a purple head, felt the cold, and stayed under their brown soil covers.
Last week, in the chicken coop, Sophia the rabbit had a blessed greening all her own—her first crop of babies. My calendar told me this might be coming, but Sophia was shy about displaying any mother-to-be tendencies. She waited until the night of birth to build her nest—a disheveled pile of straw and hay, lined deeply with layers of her soft, chinchilla-colored fur. Read the rest of this entry »
I write books and tell stories. But more important, I'm still an awestruck child when it comes to animals, nature, and spirit. I love to ponder the place where these intersect. In my experience, that place is holy ground, healing ground. Thank you for spending some moments here. I hope you'll return again and again. 
