Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Tonight I drift off to sleep listening to a historical documentary about John Muir. The night breeze rustles my curtains.
He was a a nature man who walked across America in the late 1800s sketching in his book as he traveled throughout the land.
This room in my old rock house is in his honor as I named it "the nature room" the minute I saw it.
It has vintage butterfly prints, old turtle shells, and a cross made with loving hands from bleached drift wood adorned with beads and silver from Peruvian Indians.
I was just there last week.
I wonder if we stood in the same place, amazed by the same grand moss draped oaks and melancholy marble angels.