Gemstone colored leaves swirl and sweep below my feet on concrete streets. Woodsmoke wafts from chimneys of tidy brick brownstones. Fuzzy sweaters, slippers and socks are happily worn. The autumn sunlight runs more golden than summer's citron, making longer shadows and shorter days. The exuberance of living away from home has faded a bit with the waning light, though the crisp beauty of fall wraps its arms around me with the above mentioned delights. Dave, Elsa and I continue

Instead of peepers and breezy swishes through the palms, sounds of Interstate 95 traffic, sirens and honking horns has become our background music. Concrete sidewalks, stop lights and train tracks scaffold our paths instead of frangipani and flamboyant trees. The small city energy of New Haven succumbs to both the balmy and crispy weather of September where blue skies and golden light can call for sweaters or flip flops. Dave, Elsa and I engage with this city's diverse commun

icehouse pond, west tisbury A tractor is out cutting the hayfield next door. While my eyes itch, my nose thrills with the earthy, sunbaked smells of shorn mint and bee balm. I'm hoping the milkweed that edges the field remains as it's become a Monarch Highway of sorts. Each day I practice yoga or play ping pong with one of the kids, I watch the orange and black wings flit and float through green oval shaped leaves. My pulse drops and an interior smile spreads across my belly

So much can change in a month. To think that my last post was about my last day's with Margo and now in the heart of summer everything's shifted. The ache and grief has sunk to the bottom like gravel in an aquarium, sitting undisturbed. All Holmes' reside at Granny Sue's on the Vineyard (for a few more days!) and I've been drinking in the birdsong frequencies, receiving their healing magic with every trill and chirp. The cohabitating sparks joy even in the chaos of having on

She waited. I arrived in time to say goodbye. A fraction of the dog I left two and a half weeks ago for our family vacation barely lifted her head to greet me when I finally got home. The cancer has consumed her in what feels like record time. Margo, the iguana and chicken chasing, sassy walking, happy hopping, mama loving babygirl lies next to me in my closet, one of her favorite spots in the house. Even in pain, she is graceful and quiet, braving her fate. All there is to d