Welcome to my World.

I dream of Tuscany. It’s recurring. And in the dream I have a long table, lined with chiavari chairs . . . and in them sit all the people I love the most . . . and we are laughing, eating homemade pesto and  drinking good wine . . . my limonaia is lined with hanging lanterns that never compete with the fireflies that flicker over the meadows.

Closest I’ll get for quite awhile is the orchard on whose edge I live. And like clockwork, I greet my day with a long run among it’s paths. I never meet a car. I rarely meet a person. And when I run . . . my mind is my own. I let it take me wherever it needs to go for that hour. And when I finish, I savor the tabula rasa of an unencumbered mind. It’s my therapy. That’s why I’ve never had a piece of fitness equipment enter my home. I need the elements. I need the peace. I need my running shoes. I know . . .  it’s a little Forest Gumpy, but that’s how I roll.

The morning hour has gold in her mouth.

And I can’t forget to give a shout out to Eric Diamond, who gave me back my sanity!