Is there a more beautiful spot on the water?

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The Reader in Me

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Just finished this month's book group selection, Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby. I think I'm getting too old for that kind of quick and witty fiction. We read Nemesis next...talk about two different books. Yikes. And the last book, Sweeping Up Glass. I think our book group might be a tad unfocused! Here are a couple of photos from the trip to Tuscany.
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Rain

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2:20p The sun has arrived for a short visit. Dark clouds gather over Marlboro and the slender threads of light pierce through atmosphere heavy with moisture. We swim through the woods in this heady oxygen rich landscape. The leaves have grown fingernail sized and pale translucent green to dinner plate sized dark green shade for the lush canopy above me. The woods are spongy with water. Trees are giving up their purchase in the soil, first leaning against their neighbors and then, finally, falling to the ground. Huge and full of life. Not diseased just overwhelmed by water. I get that. I am overwhelmed too. We all are. People have left their rain boots and coats in the back hall. We have given into the wet on our collars and the fine fringe of damp in our hair. What's a little dampness at this point? We are all comrades in this gathering of clouds settled over our heads. The Mountain is obscured. And everywhere there is the noise of rushing water. Water runs racing to the rive...
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Singing My Heart Out

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Every Wednesday I get in the car and travel the short hop to rehearse with a group of other like minded women. There, we sing folk tunes, traditional melodies, camp songs, spirituals, and songs from other countries. Songs that seem to suit me. I have been doing this for over 10 years and still feel the thrill of the resonant sound thrumming in my bones. Our voices blend into something unique with every song we sing. Each phrase becomes a caress. The director is a teacher, a performer, a visionary. We put our trust in her completely. Her choices are ours. Her direction moves us forward to our final goal of communion with each melody. We learn without sheet music. We listen to her deconstruction of each song as she encourages us to commit each phrase to memory. Single notes turn into phrases, verses and then the songs take on a shape. She is the magician working her alchemy. Of course, there is that moment about 3/4 of the way through each semester when I rebel. All the songs are ...
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