When my friend Rose and her dog Pepper visit seniors in memory care, they bring joy, laughter, and lessons in grace. A reflection on mindfulness, empathy, and what we mean to each other.

Sometimes the smallest pauses bring the biggest joy. A simple fruit salad with hot honey, a glass of sparkling rosé, and an evening of test kitchen fun became a moment of connection and gratitude at the Tree House.

A serene retreat at Little House in the Rockies (away from Houston’s oppressive heat) brings stunning mountain views, R&R, and time for creativity in the kitchen.

My childhood at the beach is a constant muse for poetry and a guide for how to live, an everlasting gift from my parents, who chose to leave suburbia for a life on the coast that would their children to be children and their lives to authentic and grounded in nature.

The labyrinth experience is about getting to the center while carrying your burdens, reflecting and praying, and then purposefully letting go. That’s what I did.

Beatnik poem written in response to today’s dVerse poetry challenge, requiring that we use the Villonnet format, which was entirely new to me.

While I love a party that’s all about me (like last year) or a splurge at a foodie-worthy restaurant (like most years), a stay-at-home, restful evening was just the ticket for this year’s birthday.

A birthday wish of hunger and hopefulness from Kim of Glover Gardens upon reaching 60 years + 1.

Here’s the Glover Gardens grilled chicken wings recipe, served up with reflections on how June sped by… as well as anticipation of an upcoming trip to Copenhagen and Amsterdam. I had pre-travel comfort food cravings and perhaps a little nostalgia about missing traditional 4th of July backyard barbeques while traveling.

The blooms at Glover Gardens are bursting with colorful chaos, almost singing aloud their joy at opening their faces to the sun, preening in their magnificence. I can’t go outside without stopping to admire each one, and feeling the peace of nature wash over me like waves crashing along the shoreline.

A poem about ripples reminding of those days of cooking and wine, stories and trust, laughter and imagination, acceptance and love.

An open reflection in prose form on the hopefulness factor of celebrating the new year, illustrated by numerous species of shorebirds with a seemingly collective sense of peace and purpose.

Everyone touches the world in their own way. Making my own tiny imprint through this blog, I need to balance the dark with the light, the yin with the yang. This post and poem are gentle and positive.

I spent about ten minutes photographing our Inverness seagull, who I named Nessie (wouldn’t you?), and this was truly a microjoy.

I’m killing the writer’s block beast with brusque, intentional keyboard strokes and this short confessional post.

In winter, leafless trees frame the landscape or cityscape, delicate and lacy while at the same time sturdy and lasting.

It started out with cooking and recipes as the Glover Gardens Cookbook and grew into something else, something more, something unexpected.

Cascading collective trauma is the term for what we’re experiencing as we endure seemingly never-ending external events and tragedies.

Life lessons from embroidery.

While caring for our grandson, I learned (or re-learned) a few things I’d like to share with you, like: “Laughter is contagious. Baby laughter is cathartic.”