Perched on Yavapai tribal land we’re up top Prescott, Arizona.  Don and I are hostages to a winter storm. Not in a teepee, in a resort. It could be much worse. Yavapai means “people of the sun.” The tribe boasts the first female chief in North America. Viola Jimulla was Chief of the Prescott tribe […]

In October, my intention came whooshing in like an autumn wind. In an instant, I knew courage would be my 2016 intention. Immediately I thought, Why courage? Will this be a particularly challenging year? My mind ever alert for possible problems quickly made itself heard. Gratefully, I am in the company of many brave women.

Fake Wakes is a business I’ve considered starting. Its mission: To encourage telling friends and family how much they mean to us while they are alive. Company Motto: Tell them now. Too many of us save up all the best comments about loved ones to finally deliver at their funerals. It makes me wonder, “Is

Fiery leaves gather around the base of our two Blaze Maple trees. Most will form a winter’s blanket over gnarly roots. But two handfuls of leaves will be part of this afternoon’s workshop, Schmoozing Your Muse. Once gathered, I carry them into the kitchen where they’re carefully washed before I head out. Workshop participants, a

My garden won’t be hurried. She steadfastly makes her seasonal changes. Summer’s exuberant growth is now giving way to autumn’s bright colors. She’s unfolding. Watching her natural rhythms make me question my own. What guides my changes? Am I moving with inner guidance or racing ahead to finish my “to do” list? When I am

Snip. Snip. Snip. Black spotted rose leaves fall into my hand to be tossed into the bin of yard waste. Gathering flowers and tidying the house and garden as I prepare for my friend Robin’s visit reminds me of my mother. Few were the times she would scurry with such delight. Yes, family celebrations and

“Jump! Jump!” Screams reach my ears and the shaking in my legs gets worse. I want to back up and crawl off the high dive board. But an impatient crowd of bathing suit clad divers stands in my way. I close my eyes and fall into the gapping maw of the pool. This childhood memory

Seeing an Old Story through New Eyes by Guest Blogger Katie O’Connell My mother died 34 years ago. I was 14. Nothing prepared me for the depth of that loss. In my teenaged mind I believed I was almost an adult. In truth, I was a lost child wearing an adult façade, too frightened and

Loving the Ragged and the Beautiful By Guest Blogger Beverly Menninger Tonight I stand outside mom’s room as she is dying. I observe from some other place. It feels surreal. Time stands still. She is dying the way she imagined she would. Physically she reached the place she feared most. As a soul I see