“Grandfather, I have been searching for you all day,” the young Miwok said, stumbling upon his tribe’s Shaman.
From a distance, the old man looked like a stone replica of himself—standing tall and powerful, as he was meant to be. The early evening breeze at the top of Round Hill was chill. It swept the Shaman’s long, once raven black hair, away from his chiseled face. Now the color of sea-foam, it danced in the wind. Continue reading
I have always liked the sound of the word befuddled. It has a fairy tale quality to it. It’s what the three bears would have been when they came home to a messed up house or the frog prince when he was turned into, well, an amphibian. Befuddled – dazed, bewildered, foggy, 
perplexed – Continue reading
Today’s writing challenge hosted by The Daily Post at WordPress.com got my blog juices flowing. The prompt: It’s 2AM and your phone has just buzzed you awake, filling the room in white-blue LED light. You have a message. It’s a photo. No words, no explanation. Just a photo. Tell us all about it. And what happens next..
QUACK! QUACK! QUACK!
I love my ring tone, but not at 2 A.M.
Every hair on my body, including the fine almost non-existent ones behind my knees, jumps to attention. There isn’t a down comforter in the world capable of warming the chill running through me. Something must be terribly wrong. Continue reading
No – not this Michelangelo
Nunchucks are not my thing – not yet, anyway.
Hmm…now, there’s a word that brings a picture to mind: Continue reading
Piggyback – a strange word – isn’t it? Have you ever seen a stack of pigs?
I could understand frogbacking, maybe…
or Continue reading
“Even you, Sir Richard Branson? You should be ashamed of yourself!” was my first thought, as I took my seat on Tuesday night’s Virgin America red-eye flight from San Francisco to Florida. I even mentioned it out loud. “Looks like I need to write Richard a letter,” I grumbled.
Why? Continue reading
This is a fable of blood and deceit—
Not for the faint-hearted, or stomachs that are weak.
The tale, its author, the unpopular Father Gander,
Was written from his viewpoint with unflinching candor.
This is the real story of an ogre, once sweet,
A sworn vegetarian—tricked—into eating raw meat. Continue reading
Sweating and belching, the young mother rolls into the Emergency Room at precisely one minute before midnight.
The attending physician’s eyebrows take on the appearance of his last patient’s electro-cardiogram a moment before her death.
“What is it this time?” he says.
“My temperature is rising,” she rasps.
“Sweat streams like rushing rivers down my face. My feet burn. I can hardly breathe and my mouth is as dry as the Grand Canyon in August.”
His eyebrows cinch. “Has the stabbing pain in your lungs worsened since last you were here?” Continue reading
I once sat upon an ancient rock contemplating my life—my raison d’être—in this vast world of ours. When you find yourself—an itty-bitty pinprick, a teeny-tiny dot, hardly a smudge in the landscape—gazing upon the millions-of-years-old arctic ice cap, you can’t help but wonder.
Me in Awe at the Russell Glacier, Kangerlussuaq, Greenland in 2009
Where’s My Backpack is a travel-based blog that I have recently started following. Love it! And every week, Ailsa suggests a theme and invites her readers to share their own photo adventure.
No sooner had I read this week’s suggestion when it became clear to me how often I too look down at the ground when I’m walking out, about, and all over town. But then, who wouldn’t after having recently tripped over a curb and made a face plant onto a concrete sidewalk? After screaming softly muttering a chain of expletives that mimic figs, fudge, and fajitas into my hand,
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