A Portable Paradise
It was there; the hushed quiet, the smell and the dappled green of the cathedral-like trees, my first sense of paradise.
Author: Gillie
Picture This
By the time we were making our way home, none of us could remember why a naked photo shoot was a good idea.
Trees are my people
These are noble and sacred individuals, whose dignity invites us to look at who we are as beings.
Globally sad, but locally glad
The gates on the covered bridge close
Heron
He was just Heron, reminding me to keep my feet on the ground.
Speaking in Tongues
Who hasn’t heard that cry, like something primeval calling out to lost souls
Talking Stream
Streams are connections that enable us to thrive.
Wandering Wakefield 