Evening will come…They will sew the blue sail.


Like poetry, sometimes places or people ring true in the depths of you. And that is how you know.

It’s how I know one day I must go to Little Sparta’s Garden so my soul can keep growing.

It’s how I know to marry Ash this weekend and claim my glimpse of the sea.

And it’s how friends know to send notes like this one on the eve of a life:

“Work must be KILLING you this week. All my good hair/skin/nail thoughts are with you. I just ate some salmon and dedicated all the fish oil to you.”

Thanks, Alice.

Enough champagne to last a lifetime of Wednesdays

(and sometimes Sunday mornings mixed with Orange Juice)


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