I have a love hate relationship with Florida. Every time I go and drive along its ironed highways, past strip malls and lazy aisled grocery stores, my eyes roll back and I find that itching desire to run, run away from its oppressiveness. And then: a delicate humid scent mixed with brine and sweet blossoms passes over me as I step out of the car near the bay. My skin loosens its grip in the sun’s heat and I soften to the sound of a mourning dove’s echo lost in the mangroves. I want to not like Florida, for all its years of anguish, but I can’t. I sit at a red light on Dixie Highway in wonder over the beauty of a jet black man leaning on a lime painted wall by the side of the road. A lizard runs across the curb. In my rearview mirror the afternoon storm is coming in bruising the sky and lightning flashes. Wetness hangs in the air, the back of my neck all sweaty like and I find myself slipping into a southern drawl. This place inhabits me, yes it does, whether I like it or not.

the jedi is ready to face the dark side

Jan Skywalker on his 5th birthday

Jan is 5

Before falling asleep tonight night I jokingly asked Jan what does it feel like to be almost 5? "How should I know? Haven't been through it yet.", my wise boy replied. We laughed, his smile lighting up the dark.

More has happened in the last 5 years then some people go through in a life time. This is not the time or place to enumerate on those events, but rather to say that this little boy, has bared all with incredible vigor, enthusiasm and joy. His presence in my life, along with his sister, has been my saving grace. Through them I am learning what it is to live, to love. How can one ever express the gratitude indebted to one's children?

Happy birthday my sunshine.

these poems, she said

CL: i found this on our way up to the temple. it's for you.

AT: You hold a feather up to me. It is striated, ribbed, largely heather, touched in one quadrant by red. A feathered heart.

CVK: A sun stained feather, touched by the other. The hawks messengers from the heart.

After a long bath, as I fell asleep, a multitude of vignettes cascading upon me: the pine shaded view from the rocks, salted tomatoes sunshine in the mouth, tall butter colored grass nesting tired bodies, thirst quenching greens on parched grays and browns, and always the hawks circumambulating from above, catching the sun in their wings. The list could go on, all so vivid, each detail taken in with absolute presence.

Breakneck Ridge, NY

Excellent essay by Milton Glaser which I found last year and has become very dear to me.

Found on my window sill: My daughter's exploring the diversity of love, with Elvis (not surprising, eh?)

A glorious spring day in New York City

Don't think you can ever get too old for this song

My friend Christopher has an exceptional eye. So many layers, on sunday, hot chocolates after the park.