The bluebells are here! The bluebells are here! I always get this sense of nature’s endearing beauty and reassurance when the bluebells emerge in spring after the snow. The month of May has moistened the earth. The sun has coaxed the bulbs to sprout out of the dark recesses of the soil. Up from the ground, the bluebells sway in the breeze. In the forest, the bells vibrate. On the path, they lower their shy, … Read more

Sometimes winged things are an asset. Think angels that hover on the sides of buildings, robins that flutter in the dark before dawn. Hover? Flutter? What is it, I mutter? A Byzantine masterpiece Of quarantined galleries On brick-sided buildings With paint-inscribed winged things? Well, yes, you could say that. Earlier this month, I opened the newspaper to a feature article about a mural that graced the side of a building downtown. The mural appeared on … Read more

It’s like looking through a clouded lens of soot-gray residue. The coronavirus shadows our vision and our lives. Sickness, loss, fear, chaos, death. By what shall we be defined? Here in Colorado, springtime is just beginning to emerge. Supple leaves are folded like prayers within the swollen buds of the new season. A bluebird wings a neon splash of color in the air. Blades of grass punctuate the brown remains of winter with bright green … Read more

With a heart grieving the unexpected loss of a dear friend (maid of honor, college adventure buddy, trusted confidant), I found myself alone with five full hours to obscurely wander the Tucson International Airport before flying home to Denver after her memorial. Often, in that zone of grief that comes with loss, all you can do is obscurely wander. And so wander I did into one of those little airport shops that sell candy and … Read more

Happy New Year! Creative works are gifts to humanity, beauty bestowed into form, something created out of what was not previously there. Those beautiful artistic expressions can be found and celebrated in literature, poetry, painting, sculpture, dance, music, and theater. They have the capacity to take one’s breath away and to initiate wonder. Such was my experience at “Claude Monet, The Truth of Nature” exhibit at the Denver Art Museum this month. And yes, it … Read more

Whoever brings understanding more deeply to the human heart is a precious gift indeed. Beyond the bars of the Denver Women’s Correctional Facility this month, a handful of thirty women prisoners graced an entire roomful of hearts at the University of Denver’s Byron Theatre with their vulnerability, courage, integrity, and joy. It was an evening to behold. Tears streamed down my face as I watched the stage production of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol which … Read more

Thanksgiving in the United States is fast approaching. Family, friends, and new faces gather together. Turkey, dressing, veggies, breads, and pies make up traditional menus across the country. A time to celebrate at table with dear ones. A time to be thankful. We remember those far from home. We remember those without a home. In the very name itself, Thanksgiving is about giving thanks. The first Native American United States Poet Laureate writes about that … Read more

I love autumn and the scent, color, taste, touch, and sounds of the season. It brings a heightened sense of being more fully alive. But the shimmering ecstasy only lasts but a brief period of time before the glorious leaves, for example, are swept off the branches in a mighty wind or in the rhythmic cycle of approaching winter. We come to expect that natural departure every fall but sometimes it’s more than deciduous leaves … Read more

It’s an odd paradox that tightening the faucet on busyness, opens the flow of creativity. Here in the northern hemisphere, September brings a gentle turn of season. Shadows fall long on the earth. Daylight eclipses towards the heavy-lid slumber of approaching winter. There’s a sense of slowing, a sense of closure. Thoughts of baking bread, making soup, and embracing pen to paper come to mind—quiet moments to reflect and behold. Recently back from a family … Read more

Out here in the West, it’s common to see old barns, cabins, or piles of debris across a field or at the edge of a developed lot. The wood timbers have simply decomposed over time in all kinds of weather and have fallen to the earth. Whose hard-working hands cut the trees, sawed the logs, notched and chinked the frame into being? What hopes and dreams lay cradled in the remains of those composted dwellings? … Read more