Perfectly Imperfect

 Today is Day 20.


Thank you for joining me. You gift me with your presence. And I am grateful. 
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I am determined to throw my gaze past the smudges marring the windshield, as we fly at the breakneck speed of sixty miles per hour ish down the highway. On the way to a sixtieth birthday party for a precious redheaded friend. I cannot take my eyes off the sky. I am under the spell of beauty.

Thankfully I am not driving. He can’t take his eyes off the road. I snap, click, snap, click. And darn it. The sky and the phone pic look nothing alike. He sees the dirt overtaking the glass shield, spread like a bad case of poison ivy. I see a sorbet sky on a Sunday. Signature, signed by The Sky Writer, Creator, Artist, God.  I like the view from here. I will not win any awards with my framed beauty, but the sky won me over and I am captured by color and brushstroke. Swirl and twirl. Color combinations and the use of light.

The sky is the Louvre. And I am a patron on the arts.



We study the floor in the kitchen. Together. My friend and I. Lovers of beauty and the restoration of old. We critique the work that was done and the decisions that were made in the loving renewal and renovation of this 114 year old home.

“I don’t like things too shiny.”

Neither do I, my friend. Neither do I. I crave, patina and rust. Chips, dings and worn and torn. Signs of love and life and age. Shiny. Ok, a little goes a long way. Rough hewn and battle weary. Comfort and soothe.

Perfectly imperfect and I are falling in love all over again.

I look past the messy residue of a well-loved windshield. He keeps his eyes on the road. But I could have sworn he saw the unveiling of the beauty before us, stretched out, paint still wet, on Highway 17. That night we went to celebrate.

The celebration happens on the way. Everything happens along the way.

An imperfect sky does not exist. Embrace imperfect and find the beauty in the broken. With me, won’t you.





Joining Laura for Playdates (Oh and you should totally check out her new book on Amazon: Playdates with God, by Laura Boggess)



Today is Day 17 Have I told you lately that I am grateful. For you. Thanks for reading along here. Your presence is a gift.



Yesterday I chased butterflies around my yard. Two lead me on a wild goose chase through the grass that clings to summertime. Under a canopy of azure blue, I chased down a pair of clementine orange butterflies. Their unbridled energy and speed nearly had me winded as they zigzagged and zag zigged around my butterfly bushes. Diving in and out with the agility and speed of a pair of greyhounds with wings.

I wondered. Why aren’t you on your way to Mexico?


And I wondered what one would think. Yes, the one’s driving by my house. Spying a grown woman with her camera phone, chasing butterflies. Or perhaps they wouldn’t see these smallish beauties and think I was chasing a dream. Or the wind. Or the sun’s rays on my lawn.

I struggled to keep up. Their play was so crazy. Ebullient. Frenzied. They were a pair of frenetic playmates. Calling me to enter in. And I, a willing chaser of whimsy. On the hunt for pure delight.


I hung the moon and the stars. Under the lights. Framed a little spot of whimsy on my porch. Sometimes I think it would be better suited for a  child’s nursery than the porch of a 114 year old Victorian house. But I love it. And if you ride by my house I hope you smile.  And more than that I hope you crave play and laughter. Joy and whimsy.


Childlikeness and joy. Wonder and wondering. Freedom to stop and play alone in your own front yard.

May you find time to play. To laugh. To give chase after the smallest delights that hover on the fringes of your world.

And be refreshed by the simple beauty of it all.



My beautiful friend, Laura Boggess from Laura Boggess dot com, has a wonderful new book. Playdates with God: Having a Childlike Faith In A Grown-up World, available on Amazon, is currently sold out! (This is an indicator of how fabulous Laura’s writing, voice and heart are.) Laura has people longing for God and falling in love with a spirit of playfullness.  Today’s post takes inspiration from Laura and her book. You will want to order a copy for yourself and your peeps.


Wishful Thinking

Welcome to Day 16. Thank you for joining me on this journey. To read all posts in this series, click on the page tab marked #write31days at the top of my home page.  Poetry has returned after taking Wednesday off. More prose awaits around the dusty bend.


Wishful Thinking


If I took the reigns for just a day
Took charge and had control, choreographer
Of each hour
Of the night and day
I would give the morning more
Morphing all the hours into
Break of, e
arly, mid
Stopping at noonday

Morning’s sunrise slow and sure
Would have till noon
To spread her blinding sunburst wings
Across the sleepy sky
And I
Would let the shadows slow dance
Silhouetted ghosts at play

I’d give the early morning all she’d need
Let the dew stay
More than just a little while
Linger longer
Unhurried on each blade of emerald
Grass, like glass
Never to evaporate

Tell her that her morning chill
Can have all day
To brush across the faces
Of those who take their time to wake
And breathe their smokey breathes

I’d crown morning
Let her reign
Over every living thing

If I had my way
I’d never have to say
Good bye my dear
Or wave a sad goodbye