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words words words

words words words

Every day I am aware that

many months and many miles have passed

without many words being shared.

14,388 miles logged to date with almost as many photos,

and not nearly as many words.

It is not for lack of words, not for lack of experiences,

But quite honestly,

writing is hard.

Photos are easy, rolling out,




An introvert in a family of six,

A full-time traveler in a mini home on wheels,

Where quiet is hard to come by.

I sit and stare, willing words to appear,

To verbally manifest these moments,

And think of my grandfather the writer

locked in his study with a typewriter

tap-tap-tapping out words.

It used to be that words came in torrents like rain in the South.

Then babies came -





And a camera was easier to wield than a pen.

Quick captures in the beauteous bedlam.

iphone 059.JPG

My camera skills sharpened and took the edge off my pen.

I learned to file away the moments in an image or two

and hope to verbalize them later.

One piece of this journey's vision was to make space again for things like writing,

to begin filling journals along with my camera roll,  

and slowly, slowly that is happening.

And when the words come out and spill in ink across the page,

they fill in the lines between the photos

and moments feel complete.

autumn sale

autumn sale

Clothes make the man?

Clothes make the man?