Gas Station Communion (Poem by Paula Gordon Lepp)
As I was standing there in the sun drenched gas station parking lot, the hiss and tick of the air pump sounded very much like a psalm.
As I was standing there in the sun drenched gas station parking lot, the hiss and tick of the air pump sounded very much like a psalm.
Going to the farmer’s market is a highlight of our week and I can’t recommend it highly enough.
I continue to traipse this land most days. Here it is in it’s late summer mood, yellowing tinges coming into the green.
This lyrical, but grounded, literary nonfiction about shepherding is about being in relation to the land, but also to a daughter and a mother.
I have just rearranged my plein air pastel box for my painting trip to Monhegan Island in Maine.
I am furthering my ongoing goal of appreciating such a continuous, overflowing abundance of random good.
Beauty is an abstract concept found the world over, but it is especially present on one’s home turf if you only will pay attention.
The divine will is a deep abyss of which the present moment is the entrance.
It is sheer fun to to read on the one level, and meaningful backstory on the suffragist movement on the other.
Above you can see my work that was in that show, and my favorites from the show below, in no particular order.
This is a fresh and unusual vegetarian salad to make when your peaches, tomatoes, and basil are at at their peak.
The superabundant greenish white blooms of the limelight hydrangeas languidly reach over the fence in the hazy sun, yearning to cheer you on in your day.