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A brief greeting and I return to silence.

My words are engaged elsewhere. Being used to write the story for which I came here. There will be time later to share this all with you, and so much there is to share! For now, communication is challenging. It is easy to do without, and easier still to forget I have a life beyond the here and now. Except for a sadness I feel when I think of my son, so many miles away.

For now, the occasional trip will suffice, computer packed into saddle bag, and a horse ride across river. From here where I write, with the river to my south and sun to my north, far enough away from electricity and internet, wood for making matέ and meals, candle light and stars, a sandy beach for our bath, and the only trail in is by horses. I could stay here longer than I know I should.

Please trust when I tell you this much. The story is emerging. Coming to life. Birthing slow and steady in the heat of mid day with note books and binder, pens and tea cup spread out before me on Ginny’s antique drawing table surrounded by her painting and ponchos, antiques and photo albums. Not always in the direction I thought it would lead. Like a river cutting into soft gravel in a sudden downpour and changing course. Yet to where the water leads remains the same.

Until next time. I send love and light from here where both are so bountiful.

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