Occitanie, South West France, October, 2018

“may my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.”  E.E. Cummings I awoke to the sound of chattering birds, roosters greeting the morning, and a gentle breeze blowing the curtains. Hotel Riberach in Bélesta was ‘home’ for 3 nights. The hotel, restaurant and cave (winery) have a snail as their…

Hydra, Greece, October 2018

What is it about the sea that makes my heart happy? I am here now. My soulstrolling friend, Kayce Stevens Hughlett, and I, said ‘yes’ to a writers retreat on Hydra, one of the Saronic Islands, located in the Aegean Sea. Aboard the Flying Dolphin from Piraeus we pulled 2 cards from the soulstrolling inspiration…

Athens, Greece, October 2018

Here’s the thing about renting spaces I haven’t stayed:  hopeful it’s as beautiful as the photos, curious – really, it has this view? Airbnb studio, Acropolis View Awe, gratitude, ‘this is my life!’ voiced and heart filled responses. After returning the rental car outside Athens airport (transported by a kind and at the quoted price driver…

“Kalimera” Nafplio, Galaxidi, Delphi, Eleusis – October, 2018

“Kalimera,” Welcome.  Kayce Stevens Hughlett and I had begun our soulstrolling Greece adventure. After meeting at the Athens airport, we drove our Nissan Micro to the beautiful seaport town of Nafplio, near the north end of the Argolic Gulf, in the Peloponnese region. Kyveli Suites was our ‘home’ for the night (thanks to Vanessa Sage for the recommendation). After…

“Do I turn, or not turn?” Istria, Croatia

For a week in May, 2018, my adventurous, SoulStrolling friend, Kayce S. Hughlett and I hiked from one hilltop town to the next in Istria, Croatia. It was filled with new adventures, laughter, thundershowers, mud elevated shoes, copious amounts of food, shots of espresso, abundant hospitality, stunning landscapes and conversations with animals. The chickens say hello…

House of Memories

Flanked by maples, oaks and pines My house of memories Stands poised in anecdotal reflection.   Guests come, and gone, Who sat upon the faux red leather chairs Surrounding the square wood table.   Laughter, tears, Heated conversations – Games of chance and fortune, Skill, and a dash of luck.   Visitors remarking at the…

écouter

Listen, Before the day in all its sunlit energy bursts through the shuttered windows. Listen, As the hummingbirds, sparrows and robins converse about issues in the ‘hood.’ Listen, As the gentle morning breeze waltzes with the trees. Listen, As the red geraniums share their sensory delight, Grounding to the earth. Listen, To the melody of pine,…

When you go SoulStrolling in Venice, Italy

“SoulStroller (n.) A person who is present to life in all its intricate details, who listens to the voice of his or her heart and pays attention with all the senses…” Kayce Stevens Hughlett, SoulStroller: experiencing the weight, whispers and wings of the world. I believe, that if you desire to explore new places and…

Rose Citroen

This poem found me today by way of walking to the grocery store, instead of driving, and through Mary Oliver’s poem: Humility “Poems arrive ready to begin. Poets are only the transportation.” She spoke to me of pink – The day unfurling like her, One petal at a time. Reminding me of candles On my…

King of the Marshlands

Balanced, Sentry like At the waters edge; Grounded, calm, still. Earth holds you Elegant wise bird Of the marshland. Watchful of opportunities, Regal wings graciously Frame your reed like body – Embracing power and air In flight. If I pause, and watch, Can I breathe in your qualities?

“These are a few of my favorite things…” Restaurants and Bistros: Paris, France

I’ve experienced many delicious meals in Paris over the past number of years: from restaurants and bistros, to boulangeries and cafés, in an assortment of arrondissements throughout the city. For my friends, family and fellow SoulStrollers, SoulStrolling, here’s a ‘few of my faves’ for your perusal, sampling and upcoming adventures. Frâiche – Thanks to my husband, Dave…

54 or 12? London, England, February 2018

Stepping off the Eurostar from Paris to London, my feet touch the pavement at St. Pancras International Station and I am home. I feel it in my bones. Ancestors breath pulsing through concrete flooring. My deceased Dad of 11 years whispering my name, “Sharon Anne, my wee ShaSha, we’ve more to discover.” It’s a paradox…