Woodland Garden in North Carolina. My friends Marty and Alan cultivate a serene woodland garden that perfectly complements their modern home. An ebullient Virginia fringe tree welcomes visitors. Wide paths draw guests to restful seating areas behind the house. A Japanese aesthetic informs the design, with subtle plantings merging into the surrounding woodland. From the back deck, the space opens to a wide lawn punctuated by more works of Thomas Sayre.

Poems, stories and rants by writer Julie Buffaloe-Yoder. April 7, 2011 by Julie. Sheds her skin on the path. She rubs her nose over. The moss of fallen logs. Bit by bit, she exposes. In dead pine straw,. Then curl up, unseen,.

Monday, May 18, 2015. As I became interested in digital photo art I started making digital textures that folks could use in the creation of their digital art and set up a blog called Pixel Dust Photo Art. Which somewhat pulled my attention away from this site. If you or anyone you know is involved with this doomsday sect, this book could be a real help to them. You can check out this book on Amazon.

This Blog is Now Closed. Life on the Road with a Donkey. One of my many photos of Kaïcha eating. Walking through tall grass is different. It is enticingly easy for your donkey to move.

Exploration through Photography, Poetry, Filmmaking, Fiction and Non-Fiction. It started out decently at the beginning of February but by the end had deteriorated. I learned a poem by heart.

and fountain pens and bottles of ink, decorating envelopes with Sharpies and watercolours, and on and on . Letter with hand painted envelope going to New Zealand this week. The League of Extraordinary Pen Pals.

Monday, 25 April 2011. Zvikov to Pisek and the pull of the E10. Most of the weekenders had got away on Friday so the bus trip into Prague and out to Zvikov was reasonably quiet. The path took me immediately into the forest along the River Otava and the sounds, sights, smells, taste and feel of the place on this sky-blue, sunny morning welcomed me with open arms. Pisek is a wonderful old town with a stone bridge older than the Charles Bridge in Prague, visted by millions each year.

Shards, Sweepings, Stealings, Sayings, Secrets. I go dreaming down roadways. Where does this road go? I go travelling, singing,. I bore in my heart. Drew it out one day. And my heart is numb. And suddenly all the land. Was silent, mute and sombre,.

Sunday, December 30, 2012. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though;. He will not see me stopping here. To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer. To stop without a farmhouse near. Between the woods and frozen lake. The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake. To ask if there is some mistake. Friday, June 1, 2012.