I took this photo April 7th - on the afternoon my brother passed away. I was on route to Vancouver Island to write for 10 days. I like to think of that teeny sailboat as him sailing off. He loved sailing as a boy and like many of the things that gave him joy, he didn’t take part in them enough through his life. A common story for us all.

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….it was a moment….sunrise on my way back from my first writing getaway in longer than my pride will allow me to confess. The thrill and relief of capturing the mystery again, coupled with the intoxication of the sea breeze, the vista, and the vaccine - was a veritable trifecta of hope.

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Oh, how time has changed. Has it really been two months since I wrote you? And what do I have to show for it, other than a couple more pounds? Not much…some more culling of useless house filler, thousands of e-mails written, hundreds of walks taken and zoom gatherings, and the lofty achievement of getting 7-8 hours of sleep rather than my 50 year pattern of 5-6 hours. Are you impressed? Where’s the new album you ask? The auto-biography? Frankly, sorry to say, I figure I still have time.

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I am so easy - utterly and cheaply charmed by twinkly lights. So though the beginning of December predictably marks the start of my whiney attempts to weasel out of having a tree, and testing my daughter to see if she’s ready for me to forego the ritual …. Alas, she is not, and I surrender.

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