Reader, Thinker, Writer, Lover.
March 2015
March 31, 2015

Nuevo Mexico

Written by Posted in Poetry Comments 2

Something about you

whispers to my gypsy heart.

Hard scrabble sagebrush-

roots reaching down

in search of water

that is not coming from the sky.

Dust storms swirl above mesas -

flat with erosion

and ancient stories.

Abandoned cars under bridges -

stories of lives they’ve taken…lost to history.

I can feel the hoof beats of the vaquero’s horse

galloping across the dry plains,

my ancestor.

Did he look to the west

and see thunderheads?

Hoping as I do?

Did wagon wheels get stuck in the red clay?

Did hearts reach for the big sky of New Mexico

as mine does?

Voices echo off the canyon walls,

calling home my nomad’s heart…

begging me to stay and return

to the caliche dust

with my forefathers.

March 21, 2015

She’s Gone Country

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I’m barreling down the interstate at 75mph on a perfect 75 degree spring day, hauling my horse behind me. I’m driving my truck, Ricky Bobby (my Ford 150 that is one of my great loves ), and singing along to George Strait playing on the oldies country hits station. It dawns on me, in that minute, that I am living my childhood dream.

I grew up in rural southern New Mexico. I actually lived on a farm with assorted animals: goats, chickens, peacocks, horses, a steer, rabbits…you name it. My dad was on a horse before he could walk and made sure we were, too. I come from a long line of horsemen and ranchers. There are family whispers that a one great grandfather was a horse thief, and another shot a horse for losing a race. You could say that horses and The Wild West run deep in my blood, but unfortunately; I showed no interest in them as a kid. Try as he may, my dad couldn’t convince me to put down a book long enough to go outside and ride. Read more…

March 20, 2015

Written by Posted in Poetry Comments 3

Throughout the shortened days and frigid nights of winter, my soul treads along un-walked trails. Every step, every sound, magnified in the snow and so, I step lighter, making my way through the dark, becoming one with the ice.

My heart stills as the days grow colder. It hides away behind a wall of crystal stones, its own fire, its only warmth.



Sound and life muted by heavy snow.

It seems winter has come and made its home with me. Read more…

March 16, 2015

That Good Ol’ Girl

Written by Posted in Poetry Comments 3

Some days are weighted with all of the trying to figure it out. Bricks from belly to brain, heavy. All day long, I strive. And as night falls, there are no answers; still, only questions. I find myself wandering; and then, of course, with the herd. In the darkness, I can scarcely make out the white blazes on foreheads and feet. They’re curious what brings me out so late.

After accosting my pockets and finding no treats, they begin to move away, back to their dinner.

Except one.

I sit on the red gate and she follows me, standing as close as she can manage without stepping on my feet with her dinner plate hooves. She noses in my belly, looks at me as if to say, “Why bricks?” Then she breathes her hot breath into my chest. I lay my hands on her as if I’m a healer, but the healing is flowing into me. She leans closer – one eye gently focused on my face, waiting. Read more…

March 15, 2015

Just a Mom

Written by Posted in Blog Posts Comments 4

I am drawn like a moth-to-the-flame to successful, driven people. They fascinate me. Uber-disciplined CEOs, scientists, corporate career women, renowned software developers, athletes…this is my inner circle of closest friends. They all wake up, setting the world on fire with their ideas and work ethic, and then manage to have families, stay in shape and maintain friendships.

I am…how shall we say… a combination of hippie, highly opinionated French woman, and rough outdoorsman. Picture flower-child meets Annie Oakley meets Marion Cotillard, and they have a love child who is a whiskey connoisseur. I can be found reading poetry and listening to French music in the mornings, hauling a load of hay and shoveling a corral of horse manure in the afternoons, and dancing at a hip hop class in the evenings. I write. I ride horses. I cook gourmet food, a lot. In short, I do whatever strikes my fancy with great joie de vivre. I despise schedules and striving. Read more…

March 12, 2015

Written by Posted in Poetry Comments 1

Like scouts, they arrive

quietly and unannounced -

soldiers of spring,

but weaponless,

only harbingers of the larger regiment to follow. Read more…

March 10, 2015


Written by Posted in Poetry Comments 2

How do you tame a wild bird, its flighty little heart,

its constant search for sustenance, shelter, safety?

Its desire to escape the confines of its lofty cage? Read more…

March 4, 2015

Love = Love

Written by Posted in Blog Posts Comments 0

I normally try to stick to original content, but this video sums up in pictures and a few words how I feel about a topic near and dear to my heart. I couldn’t say it any better.


March 3, 2015

The Wisp of Time

Written by Posted in Uncategorized Comments 2

Life is a flurry of motion and activity with 1 preteen and 3 teenage girls: volleyball practice, musical theatre, doctor’s appointments, school, dance, dinners, homework, making lunches, stories about boyfriends, stories about mean girls, barking dogs chasing cats, singing, dance parties, sleepovers… and then, just last night, all was quiet. Crypt-quiet. A few kids were off at their evening activities, others in their rooms studying.

I stood in the kitchen, stunned and alone. I realized that this flurry of motion is reaching its critical mass, soon to be gone forever.

When they were all tiny (and I happened to be homeschooling), the days wore on and the months seemed never-ending and the years seemed endless. I didn’t mind it; in fact, I loved being surrounded by the love and chaos that I naively assumed would last to my dying days.

Then, just this month, shit began to get real. I ordered graduation announcements for one. College recruiters are constantly after another, and she just created her senior schedule. Yet another is planning to be gone this summer at theatre camp in Nebraska…and doesn’t need my help arranging it. The “baby” is whispering on her cell phone and giggling about boys.

I watched some young moms today at the gym rushing around after their toddlers; some of these toddlers had managed to strip down to their underwear, others  were trailing 85 crackers behind them. I remember, viscerally, the frustration and never-ending neediness of having babies. I thought it would never end.

Then, I blinked. And it’s ending.

I’m going to put away all that is not necessary, for now. The wisp of time that these girls are with me is going to be gone in an instant. I grieve this. I rejoice in this. I can’t wait to see what the future holds, but I’m not going to let it rob me of the present.

This moment, with them arguing with each other around the dinner table, is mine…and I will store it like treasure in my heart.