Veins run deep. Pockets of distortion, pits and sticks. A landscape cracked and disturbed, stained and bleached from the sun. Colors soft, contrast drifting into shade. Solid, firm, reliable as an East wind. In stone a story I hear with my fingers.
Tag Archives: Roxborough State Park
Little Gem
Grace and Gratitude
I am richer for having begun to blog with all of you. Each post you make, whether I like that post or not, has taught me something. You have shown me the world with your essays, poetry, photographs, and paintings. Your support of my site has kept me inspired to keep going, too. I realize it is not Thanksgiving everywhere, but I send to you all from here in beautiful Colorado the deepest gratitude the holiday inspires for us.
I am moving my home this weekend so won’t be posting much in the next few days, but Happy Thanksgiving to all.