I love early morning walks in cool, fresh air. I love the wild sound of a pounding surf. I love the cry of hawks in Autumn, and the lonely sound of a train whistle in the distance. I love wind; the way it washes over me.
I love falling headfirst into a story, and I love writing word-pictures that show you what I see. I love anything bittersweet, even the sound of the word.
I love eating ice cream sandwiches on my front porch and watching butterflies circle each other. I love hearing raindrops on a metal roof, and sleeping in on rainy mornings.
I love black night skies crammed full of stars, orange sunsets that sprawl across the sky, and the zen-like silhouettes of old pines.
I love clouds–soft, blurry Monet ones and long, wispy trailing ones and dark purple stormy ones.
I love music that touches the deepest parts of me, the crystal note that hangs in the air; the the exquisite freedom of the dancer’s soaring leap.
I love when my grandsons spend the night. I love it when my children call with good news.
And, last but so not least, I love falling asleep in the arms of the man I love and waking up next to him.