It seems to me there is a subfloor to reality, a humming layer of mystery that lies beneath everything. We dwell in it

If summer were a tomato, it would be golden red on the vine; sweet and full and warm with sunlight. I've already noticed a few rust colored leaves in the driveway, and detected that hint of coolness on the gauzy breeze. Soon I will see dabs of auburn and ochre along the

Lately, I've been making almost everything from scratch. This is my current chapter. This is what I am learning to love. I've been creating more than ever and at the same time, almost continuously in a state of rest.