In the midst of the brilliance of fall, the starkness of winter when fall has fallen, the glory of spring's newness and summer's growth the green fir tree stands. It stands through all the seasons unchanged and unnoticed. It is not exactly a sight that would make one get out of their car and take a picture. You might notice it during a Minnesota winter when it would be the only non gray or white color you see for several months. Other than that, just a simple fir tree that is quietly, simply, without fanfare, there.
I have begun a path, though I know not where, to a journey’s end that is calling. Along the way I pause to absorb the metaphors and images of this life, which are so precious. Here you shall find me brave, you shall find me pondering, you shall find me searching, and you shall find me collecting the images and metaphors like shells upon the beach. I am very much like the little monkey wearing a dapper hat, playing the cymbals and drum and dancing a jig. I do not have it all figured out, I may be learning to write, but one thing I do know and that is how to collect the shells on the beach of my beloved Gulf Shores. I offer these shells to you.