Life and writing, serious and humorous, old and young, past and present: it's all part of the fabric.
I do want to! This makes me want to go back to the North Shore of Lake Superior, where my family vacationed last month. Beautiful!
I want to get on those rocks, BUT I know how cold that water is. Very nice photograph of what looks to be afternoon light.
That first photo looks like a painting!
Ho, yes, I want!:o)I agrre with Michaele, the first pic looks like a wonderful and magic painting..
Thank you for those photos. Most summers we spend a month with a daughter and granddaughters in Sweden in very similar surroundings to those. Haven't been able to this year - so they came here for a few days instead. Miss swimming off rocks like those, though.Thanks again,Regards, Mike and Ann.
The light streaming in the window feels like the light in this wonderful book I just finished reading... THE BOY ON THE PORCH. Sharon, I cannot thank you deeply enough for the beauty in this book. I just posted my recommendation on abookandahug.com... the place where I commune with children who are looking for themselves in books. Here's a link: http://www.abookandahug.com/fiction-2/23372-boy-on-the-porch I have a question for you about the names in the story... John and Marta beginning with the same letters as Joseph and Mary... is that coincidence?
Thank you so very much for that beautiful note and review. xx
p. s. re John and Marta/Joseph and Mary -- ah, one of those subconscious associations perhaps? I didn't intentionally do that . . .
My dad's girlfriend used to live in Owls Head until a couple of years ago. I stayed at her place once and realized everyone should wake up to the sounds of the ocean.
Maine is where Bill Bryson lived? I don´t know, I might be wrong, but I have heard about it.Perhaps Norwegian students went to college there?Anyway, it looks pretty and a good place to be.
“Maybe we’re here only to say: house, bridge, well, gate, jug, olive-tree, window--at most, pillar, tower--but to say them, remember, oh! to say them in a way that the things themselves never dreamed of so intensely.” --Rilke
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