Saturday morning in San Francisco. She had just enjoyed the most delicious eggy crepes, smoky bacon and strong but smooth European coffee. Now it was time for a stroll in this incredibly charming city. Working her legs as she climbed the hills, she noticed flowers everywhere. She passed numerous hanging arrangements and bundles of fresh, vibrant blooms slightly swaying in the ocean breeze, as if they were flirting on a swing set saying “Look how pretty I am!” Having moved from the dry desert of Las Vegas, she was joyful at the idea of being surrounded by foliage that not only survives the climate here but actually thrives in it. She, too, knew that she would be able to relish in the milder sun of Northern California and would no longer be blinded by the harshness of its rays. She was equally intrigued by the thick vapor that would lumber across her small studio window, seducing her to come out and play under the stars into the late night. In love with her new surroundings, she realized how enchanted her life was now. How she could now become a newer version of herself, one that was as rich in brilliant and varying pigment as the flowers she admired.

Early spring sweetness softens the hardest of winter’s edges.  Its colors whisper hope, that life is coming.  External souls who had laid dormant, hibernating until the icy frost lost its grip.  The earth’s light beckoning with its new warmth, poking and prodding – “wake up sleepy head…it’s your time again.”

This is a cross between scrapbooking, journaling, visual arts, and fiction writing.  A portal full of lush colors, rich textures, and accompanying thoughtful musings.