The writers, artists and photographers featured in Under the Gum Tree are exceptionally talented, and I am humbled to be featured among them. This volume is breathtaking, the layouts sublime. Order your copy today. Under the Gum Tree is worthy of coffee-table real estate:)
Those of us living on earth generously acknowledge that no good work is created in isolation. To this end, I give a shout out to my dear friend and fellow writer, Deb Levy, for her 1,000 reads and sage suggedits (as we kindly call them). I also give great thanks to Under the Gum Tree’sfabulous editor, Dorothy Rice. Dorothy’s editing vision transported this piece to a more intense and clear-storied place.
Little T grew up at my husband’s nursery. Her coop was decimated this Wednesday. Her unique personality will be forever treasured. She reminded us all how far a little happiness can go. I must admit, I’ve been a meat-eater in the past. Over the last few years, I’ve stopped eating red meat, but have dined on poultry. Writing this piece has inspired me to finalize the vegetarian push. My son turned vegetarian two years ago, he’s a fabulous role model. I hope you’re all managing each day okay.
In the mail today, an offer for my dad. Miracle Ear “promises to positively impact your life!” Dad has been deceased for over three years now. That would be some miracle!And I’ve missed him for 1,235 days.❤️
Can’t recall what was going through my head in 2016 when I created this image.
I wish I could remember.
This piece once vaguely reminded me of John Baldessari’s artwork in the 1980’s—placing bright adhesive dots on random faces in photographs.
Since last year, the mask-like shape and those sad brown eyes have taken on a life all their own.
The nurses and aides who worked at my mother’s nursing home were spectacular in their compassionate care. As I stood outside looking through my mother’s window, they daily entered a place where Covid was. They amazed me with their bravery and perseverance. (As of this writing, Covid numbers have dropped significantly) When my mom was moved to palliative care, I was permitted to enter the facility and spend time with her each day until she passed away. Though I had the requisite PPE, I was nervous, not so much for myself, but for my family. I didn’t want to bring the virus home. That first day I sat beside Millie, I thought about Leon. Leon, a custodian, who like the nurses and the aides, moved in and out of the same rooms they did exemplifying the same kindness, perseverance, and bravery.
I thank all first responders, healthcare workers, those on the frontlines, and the unsung who’ve been dealing with Covid head on since the beginning.
This photo was taken a few weeks before my beautiful mom became bedridden.