The Field Office

When you call for me now, I'll be in the Field Office... in a room of my own... awash in memories of travels, dear friends, good books, and words, lots and lots of promising words.  I find myself studying pictures of older women, like the Inuit elders and a woman drinking coffee after finishing a solid morning's work.  No more collections of young hunter-women -- now, it's time for Recasting, Revisioning and Renewing the Vows to myself.

The stove is named Volcano -- really -- and it lives up to its name during the winter.

The window looks northwest to where the cold winds of winter blow.  I see sunsets, the garden, a pine and a cherry tree.  I hear birds, chipmunks, mice in the roof, and the contented beat of one human heart.