It’s a new year, as you’ve likely noticed. Here’s an arty shot from a past January, while David and I were on our year of adventure.

It’s likely a sunset, since that’s when we usually walked the beach, but it looks a bit like a sunrise, so use your imagination. I’m trying to give you a visual metaphor of NEW.

Speaking of which, I’ve already started new classes, with more to come. So much to look forward to. In the process, I’m trying to embrace the AND of life. In one of my poetry classes the teacher reminds us periodically  to acknowledge the existence of despair AND delight, like Ross Gay in his two books of delights that aren’t actually all about delight.  Grief AND joy. Differences of opinion AND unity in the things that matter most.

Last Saturday I drove down to Denver on a dreary icy day–I know, sounds terrible so far–but it was to see the Camille Pissarro exhibit at the Denver Art Museum. A cold gray day AND beautiful art.

It was absolutely beautiful and I loved it. Completely worth braving I-25. Besides the glorious exhibit, people were kind and considerate of others trying to see the art. Yay.

And up close:

Pissarro’s art reminds me of how lights and darks together are more interesting than either alone, how complementary colors–those on opposite sides of the color wheel, like red/green, blue/orange, yellow/purple–when used side by side, make each other appear brighter, more vibrant.

And up close:

I took my time studying his brush strokes, color placement, color choices, subject matter, even the fact that in the midst of all this beauty, there was rarely a sky without clouds. Can’t wait to experiment a bit myself. I haven’t yet tried painting Monet’s Japanese Garden in Giverny that I visited in 2019, but why not? I’m feeling inspired.

Wishing you all the best in 2026. Praying for you unquenchable joy to ease the hard parts. Grace and peace to you and yours!

(PRO TIP: Remember to go to the actual website to see the photos without weird aspect-ratio distortion. Clicking on the title will get you there.)

My fall classes and various other events are in full swing, so I’ve been on overdrive lately. That seems fitting for the month of October, which has always meant, for me, color on overdrive. I especially love the bright blaze of fall foliage in New England, but Fort Collins hasn’t been too shabby this year, either.One day recently, you would have found me craning my neck, gawking at trees in a parking lot and snapping pix with my phone, caring NOT AT ALL if I looked crazy doing it.I mean, worth it, right? Even more glorious in person, I promise.

Earlier in October, I finally made it back for a Sunapee fall, after ten years of missing it, thanks to a family wedding. Congrats, Julia and Sean! Thanks to them, I also hiked to the top of Mount Kearsarge for the first time in decades. Woo-hoo! Super chilly on top, so we didn’t stay long!

New Hampshire is in a drought, so the foliage was not its most spectacular–more brown, so the flashes of red were all the more welcome,and the glowing sunset light on the lake made up for it.Last weekend was the Fort Collins Artists Studio Tour, and what a treat that was. I couldn’t resist this one by my friend Marie-Louise Dautzenberg.

Now I get to wake up to sunlight on this celebration of color. There is some serious talent in Northern Colorado, but the great thing this year is I felt more inspired than intimidated. Is that one of the gifts of aging? Less of a need to compete? More of a desire to try something new with no grading scale attached? I think it might be. What do you think?

Sweet as the nectar I make for the hummingbirds that visit my deck.In fact, this summer has been so sweet that I spent all my time enjoying it and completely missed posting in July. Sorry about that! It’s high time to share some of it.

I’ve had lots of family time, including adventures with Beckett and Brooks.

Plus loads of water fun at Lake Sunapee and at the Rain Dance pool. Soak up some joy from all these smiling faces.

I even managed a few decent loon shots this year.

August brought its own sweetness. A few weeks after we got back from the lake, Beckett had one of his Taekwondo levels testing days, and I was invited. Of course, I took my camera!

Then Beckett’s birthday…

I got a little something for Brooks, too.

The very first thing Brooks said when he arrived at the lake was, “It’s just so beautiful!” in a hushed, awestruck voice. Adorable. And true.

This year I noticed a patch of long, bright-green grass growing up out of the lake near our cousins’ dock, with little flashes of iridescent blue along each blade. When I paddled closer, I found that dozens, maybe hundreds, of electric-blue damselflies had landed and were sticking out exactly the same direction like little flags in the breeze. I wasn’t brave (or reckless) enough to take my camera on the paddleboard to snap a shot of them, but I did take Brooks to see them. His verdict? “Beautiful!”

There’s something so inspiring and, well, sweet about a small child’s appreciation for joy and beauty. I’d like to learn from that. I recently happened across a book, “Don’t Forget to Sing in the Lifeboats,” containing fabulous quotes collected by Kathryn & Ross Petras. The title is paraphrased from a quote by Voltaire. Love it.

So here’s my plan: I’m taking breaks from the grim news every now and then. I’m appreciating the beautiful (and the adorable, whenever possible). I’m singing. Join me?

I’m feeling the need for a little respite from All The Things. When better than now to savor joy wherever it can be found? So here we go:

This is generally a pretty sunny place, but it has rained–and snowed–just enough to make everything gloriously green. My spring bulbs, planted last fall, actually bloomed, as well as the usual flowering trees. Woo-hoo! Besides blooming and greening (and a little bit of raining), this spring has included a lot of music. I had the chance to attend an afternoon presentation by Joel Bacon at CSU about the Casavant organ. Although I’ve spent plenty of time in the performance hall with the organ in its previous location, especially while I was earning my degree in music there, somehow, I had never seen a demonstration of all it could do. Very cool.

Also, I’m finally doing some songwriting after a years-long hiatus, this time mostly with others, which is a whole new and fascinating experience. I thought that was all in my past, but it turns out there’s not really an expiration date on creativity, so I’m not planning to stop anytime soon. Easter offered plenty of music, as always. Brittany and Andy came up from Denver for the day.

Chelsea, Brian and the boys came over from Windsor.

Everyone joined me at church. Here’s one of my favorite moments (a little backstory first): This year we had a choir, open to anyone. It was all Easter joy and family love, nothing formal about it. We were singing with the worship team, so our leader was actually behind us during the service. The piece was a wonderful new song by Aaron Williams called “Resurrection Hope,” and we had been encouraged to have it memorized and to make eye contact with the congregation to project the appropriate energy. As instructed, partway through the song, I glanced at the boys and there was Brooks giving us a big thumbs up and kind of nodding with a serious critic’s face. Adorable.  I burst out laughing. Now however casual the choir, minimum expectation is to actually sing, so I had to look elsewhere. I did finally manage to pull it together for the big celebratory finish.

In the moment of silence at the end, a very familiar young voice yelled, “Good job, Gigi!” 😉

I hope your Easter was gloriously joyful, with or without a personal cheerleader.

He is risen! And he’s where the joy is.