The Flower of Love


Today is the twenty first anniversary of my late husband’s death. I am dedicating this blog of music tonight to him. Thank you for the memories. I have not forgotten any of them. The flowers still bloom.

Thank you for listening and sharing this beautiful music with me. Blessings, peace and harmony, Namaste



There is a certain unique beauty to be found in the sunrise. A new day filled with hope and excitement. Well for some people. I must confess I am a night person. The night owl is one of my companions. I will often sit on my porch on summer nights and just meld with the stars and the sounds of the night. There is a sweetness and calm to the night for me anyway.

I was in Watertown, NY with friends many years ago. My friend Rick was a musician doing a gig up there. It was a fun night filled with music and laughter. People began to finally wonder off and my friend Rick and I decided to go for a ride and ended up at a Revolutionary fort and battleground. We sat and talked and talked and did solve the world’s problems. I remember the exact moment the sun began to rise. We sat there and watched it grow and glow. It became breathtakingly beautiful.

It’s beauty haunted me for a long time. It did not, however, change me into a morning person. But those moments, sitting watching the fabulous sun greet us with its pure beauty touched my heart and mind. It is one of those moments you store away to remember another time. These moments are important for us to have. We all need to record the important and impressive moments on our hearts and souls. They are able to help you through the hard times. They can make you smile when no one else is. They remind you of what is important in your life.

“Let every dawn of the morning be to you as the beginning of life. And let every setting of the sun be to you as its close. Then let every one of these short lives leave its sure record of some kindly thing done for others; some good strength or knowledge gained for yourself.”  —John Ruskin

No matter how your biorhythms work, make each day count. May we all extend a helping hand, a kind word or an unselfish act. May we all live each day with the goal of creating our highest good.

A starry, starry night

A starry, starry night

The new day begins with the sunrise

The new day begins with the sunrise

Holding onto Mellow Yellow Monday as Summer Flies By

“Though many a house has sheltered me in the course of summers past, one memory serves to tie them all. It’s early afternoon and all is sweet peace. Just
a shift of the pillows sets the porch swing swaying gently–pillows covered in faded chintz with the musty scent that attests to their long winter’s nap in the shed. The book lying tented across my chest is slightly musty too, foxed with the brown spots of age, since it was left downstairs in the bookcase thirty or forty years ago. You may be sure there’s nothing in it to tax the brain: It’s a romance and Cressida and Percy are settling their futures over a game of tennis. But I shall simply revel in the pleasures of the present, listening to the burr of the lawn mower down the road, watching the hornets busy themselves with their nest, biting into the slice of lemon I’ve finished with my iced tea.

Ah, the joys of a summer place!…Making our house our own was always easy. We could add what we liked–and subtract. Sometimes we’d spend the first few hours hiding the owners’ plastic lobsters, fake fishnets, and seagull mobiles in the deep dark closet to allow a clean-sweep for our time there…Drape a Marseilles spread over the sofa, swap the lamps around, frag the softest chair into the landing that overlooks the lake–all is permissible, all is comfortable…Someone would gather a bucket of irresistible shells, as pink as the first light of morning, and scatter them along the mantelpiece. There were always tomatoes ripening in the windowsills and handfuls of berries found on country lanes. A seagull feather was dropped on the duck decoy, and wildflowers, filled every jelly glass, shedding their petals on the table…We’d line the sideboard with jars of beach plum jelly from the Ladies Beautification Committee Fair and hang a watercolor of a rose discovered at a tag sale– and consider all of it quite beautiful indeed ( if anyone had paused to look between the dashes to the tennis courts or bike rides to the beach.)”

—-Catherine Calvert
” Porch Swings, Old Novels, and Memories of
Summers Past”
The Quiet Center: Women Reflecting on Life’s
Passages from the Pages of Victoria Magazine

When I read this, my mind took me back to summer’s past. Summers spent at the family camp in the Allegheny Mountains. There was this rugged cabin. When we arrived we had to unshutter the windows and brush away cobwebs. Make the double bunk beds up in all the bedrooms. Wood needed to be cut because we cooked on a wood stove, or outside on this brick fireplace with a metal grill over the fire. All crafted by my Uncle.

There was no electricity and we used kerosene lanterns for light.. There was also no running water and we pumped the needed water with a hand pump. I can remember thinking my arm would fall off.

There was an outhouse and I painted the door one vacation. I painted a sugar bowl on the door and lettered “The Sugar Shack.” Hunters called my Uncle the next winter to compliment the art work.

I learned some lessons there that have never left me. This planet of ours is so beautiful and precious. I learned to walk the paths in the forest as quiet as a mouse. I learned to appreciate the wildflowers and learned many of their names. I learned that the most beautiful thing in the world is being on top of a mountain and looking up and seeing that huge sky lit by the heavenly lights

I learned that I was small in comparison but that I was connected to all that I could see in the night sky. It was a lot. I began learning the lesson of appreciating each individual moment. I learned the importance of them and the contentment of living in the present moment. I would look up and yesterday didn’t matter anymore, and tomorrow would never come. When it arrived it wasn’t the future, it was the present. So my journey of living in the present began on the top of a mountain and it has taken me to lakes, oceans, gulfs, bigger mountains and right now; at this moment I am here writing for you..

Creating Memories

In the 1960’s, I was struggling with reality and memories. Some I wanted to remember and cherish and some I wanted to forget. I wasn’t sure that any of “this” was real. That is when I began photography. I needed to see if each moment was a moment in real time. I have now taken approximately 60,000 photos.

I have learned during my journey in this life, you need to create the memory in the moment. I often remind myself to stop and open my eyes and really see what is happening. I believe that looking through a lens at life for 32 years has given me the ability to quickly take in the details that will mean so much in the future. It is now an automatic instinct to ” see life” as I go through my days. I can not say that I do it all the time, however, I have learned to impress upon my mind, the memories I want to keep and take with my soul when I return to the source.

There are so many times in our life that because of obligations, work, children, charity work, illness we miss creating memories. When was the last time you really looked at the morning dew on your roses? When was the last time you sat on your front porch without phone or lap top and just opened your senses up to the song of the birds, the chipmunk sneaking into your garden or felt the sun on your face as you read a new book?

Intention is important in how and what we create. If we look for the goodness in life and create memories out of that goodness, we will be blessed with many beautiful and simple memories.

The memories I cherish the most are not exotic adventures or meeting a celeb. There are the fleeting seconds which I caught with my heart and mind and now they will always be mine. No one can take them away. Memories are truly the only things we can take with us when it is our time to pass over and return to cosmic consciousness.

Flying lessons, Burke Airport Photo by A. Halperin

Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum Photo by Barbara Mattio