Breathless.

I have been rendered breathless by a view. It's like the cover of a children's book set in the country. I've just spent two hours frolicking barefoot through the apple orchard on top of a small mountain in my hometown. I can see acres and acres of fields below me, broken by the occasional patch of meadow, and a few white steeples poking out of the green. My face is alive with the sunlight. Gently humming and tingling as the frozen blood dances beneath my skin. My pockets, cleavage, and belly are bursting with stolen apples while the wind laughs forgivingly through my hair and skirt. The air smells sweet. I pity those who don't experience things like this. To never know the squeamish delight that one feels after squishing a rotten apple with ones toes...or the peace one feels when all that can be heard is the nervous rustling and fidgeting of the fall leaves.

These fragments make us alive.

We feel and change just like the seasons. We fall from trees and we bruise, and we hurt when we're plucked from home. But when we accept the fall, and believe in the spring...life keeps humming along.

Renewed and feeling strong...I head home.

It smelled of pumpkins,

grass, and sweet soft endings.

It fit between my strings and then sat behind my ear.

I wonder who left it for me?

Did they know I'd write a song,

Or keep it to press between the pages of my life?

A single tree on a hill has filled me with inspiration, beauty and a sense of calm that I have been longing for. My fingers grow numb writing this, for the sun that had previously made the yellow leaves above me glow against the brilliant contrast of the blue November sky, now is slowly descending behind the distant buildings. Casting one last muted ray full of amber and cinnamon upon my pages, it leaves me with the memory of my beautiful day and the inspiration its rays left upon my paper, strings, and heart.

I love sunsets in the city.

As the sun descends into the Hudson River, every building is gently painted with a soft golden hue that slowly drips down to the street until the sun is gone and the buildings turn into dusty pink statues waiting to be enveloped by the night.

One by one windows are lit, tops of buildings are torched, and the street lamps do their best to imitate and support the moon.

It's like watching an invisible hand paint the inside of your own personal snow globe.

And here I sit...

Huddled on the top of a little hill,

In front of a little tree....

Observing the creation of my own little globe.

I imagine a soft brush dipping into pots of gold, orange, purple, pink, blue and gray,

And then being swept across the thin clouds of dusk.

It's pure magic.

I know that no matter how hard my little snow globe is shaken,

I'll always remember what it looks like when the pieces settle and the beautiful sky is painted

....again and again.

"Don't you just love New York in the fall?"

The Upper East side is so quiet on this Yom Kippur morning. The people I do see are well dressed, happy, and crooning over their pumpkin colored strollers. An old couple eat bananas outside the Jewish Museum...casually talking and peeling away with content. I smell leaves for the first time...one would never think that the smell of decaying plants and the taste of warm pumpkin spice would mix so well...But here I am...enjoying every sensation around and within me. I have my orange knit hat on and i'm ready for fall.

On the nice days, all of New York comes through the park. Homeless men remove their shirts and take their annual bath in the sun's rays, yogis take their mats to grass, and everyone shoves their feet into sneakers and tries to keep their summer body for a bit longer. A woman bounces and dances on the latest fitness trend in New York. Why people feel the need to attach 8-inch springs to the bottom of their sneakers still baffles me...but the heavily tanned man in the purple shorts and red hat, doing squats next to her, doesn't seem phased.

My body is humming with the warm caffeine but my breath is calm as I breath in sun-dappled leaves and exhale the pale green sunlight onto these pages. The Shakespeare garden is like a little hovel of history and subtle romance. I thank Alice Greenhauff Gross for gracing the world in some positive way so I could sit on "her" bench. Of course, maybe she was just very rich...I'll look her up. :)

Splendor To Be Missed

I've been running to catch a lot of sunsets lately...

I always seem to miss them. But what I see is still beautiful...

The afterglow of missed splendor.

The sweat drips through my lavender dress and my new brown boots harbor prickly prisoners of the field. My feet don't care even though they just ran up a small mountain.

To the left of me: tall, yellow, Toadflax flowers greet my nearest field of vision while complimenting the dark indigo of the Blue Ridge Mountains. These majestic mountains are dizzy with the peach and raspberry sorbet swirled above their heads...

To the right of me: the dark forest is contrasted against the sun's last kiss on the scattered clouds' cheeks. The bottom of each piece of heaven is dusted with glowing gold, and wears a scarf of ash-purple on top of its flaxen curls.

The rest is infinite. A softly sung melody of color...a blue that graces brides...

Something old...

This land.

Something new...

My perception.

Something borrowed...

This fragrant Virginia air.

Something blue...

My heart to leave this place.

And with that I say, "I do," to this beautiful state, this beautiful Earth, and my beautiful future.

Goodbye...until the next sunset.

Scattered Thoughts of Home

Layers of cobalt,

Mossy feet,

Lattes with milky hearts,

Crystal blue eyes...

Quickening heart.

Change, familiarity...

The sense of stilled and past time.

A purple and white spiral

Giving way to a blue light.

Sparkling blue eyes...

The white cotton soft of home.

Damp braids,

Dried flowers,

And the smell of basil.

How do I love me... let me count my blessings.

Notes and memories being plucked

Across my mind,

Blending soothing melodies

Into the song of stillness.

This is what I carryin my pocket.

Who Says Virginia Is The Only Place For Lovers?

Forever is not a word…rather a place where two lovers go when true love takes them there.

~Unknown

“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”

~Dr. Seuss

Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.
~Oscar Wilde

A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.
~Ingrid Bergman

All mankind love a lover.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

"That gorgeous month where everyone goes blissfully astray..."

Spring is always associated with new beginnings. For a while I really felt like the shell of New York City was hatching to produce a fluffy little duckling of romance, fulfilled hopes, and rose scented cotton skirts. I saw and felt a few things...a melting snow man that conveniently melted into the shape of a heart, a flower laden Strawberry Fields, a small Indian wedding taking place in Central Park, and a sun melt pink into the Hudson. Everything in my life is ending right now though...school is almost up...my first year in New York is coming to a close while I can hear summer sizzling from a six hour drive away. My mouth is watering for yoga, the sound of my best friends’ laughs, mountains, barefoot dancing to banjos, camping, berries, crisp lettuce, chlorinated curls, and banana oil.

Under the pink tulip poplars in Central Park I watch a sample of New York society congregate and bask in their budding rose tans. A homeless man sleeps half in the sun, half in the shade... oblivious to the more fortunate running around him, but proud he can call this petal laden field his bed for the day. A woman walks in the middle of the patch of petal-filled nature and has her picture taken. No smile, Louis Vuitton bag swung forward and sunglasses covering her eyes. What a perfect backdrop for superficiality! The little five-year-olds count to ten as each of their friends take their turn sitting in the tree. They seem to get more joy from counting and clapping than the time they spend sheepishly sitting on the tree’s arm. Some other little girls make up a game that consists of throwing the large pink petals up like leaves. It seemed like yesterday that those trees were giving the world reds, golds, and the crinkly smell of beautiful decay. The scene was different then too. People gathered in scarves and shiny boots that matched the trees around them. Now all you see is flowery prints and flowing white. People don’t even realize how much nature influences society. We should probably appreciate it more, yes? An asian bride and groom enter stage right. The Central Park show isn’t over till the asian bride takes pictures.

Another homeless man lies down under the flowers with his entire life still strapped to his back as he sleeps away. A large dread lock props open the book he was reading when he drifted off to sleep. It’s impossible to not smile when you spot a kiss all the way across a lake... I can hear their fluttering hearts above the clacking and creaking of the rowboats as they splash lovers and families through the water. It’s a wonderful spring day when you see the water in the fountains for the first time. Already I see an upside down gin bottle, a Listerine strips packet, the heel of a shoe...and numerous shiny pennies floating in the speckled water. This doesn’t stop the kids from hiking up their little skirts and shorts and splashing around without a care. I’m going in.

I love where the flowers and the leaves meet the skyline...my two homes. :)