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My husband and I have both been drawn to theater for years. I took some theater history classes in college, and he performed in a handful of community productions. We met when a big group of friends went to a play and then dinner afterward. When we married two years later, we merged our lives, our households, and our season tickets to the theater.
Here are a few reasons why I love theater and you might too:
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On the wall across from my desk hangs a painting of a young woman with long red hair. She's wearing a blue hat with yellow-orange flowers lining the band. Her heart-shaped face has rosy cheeks and dark red lips forming a tiny smile. Her eyes are closed.
Where is she? What is she doing?
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The Arts Center a few miles from our house holds a pottery sale every year in the spring and fall. My husband and I go every fall, often with an eye toward Christmas shopping. Bowls and cups of every shape and size, created by instructors and students, are offered for sale at very reasonable prices.
They're almost too reasonable, because we always bring home a piece or two.
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It was a gray, overcast morning as I walked along the waterfront of Lake Lugano through the Belvedere Gardens. Two rows of trees created a thick, green canopy overhead and a temporary shelter from the drizzle. In an hour or so, downtown Lugano would fill up with people everywhere: in the Gardens and shops, the sidewalk cafes, and pedestrian-only streets and plazas.
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Sometimes seeking beauty can be a little inconvenient. And last Thursday evening, it was so worth it.
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Photo by Hide Obara | Unsplash
It’s finally beginning to feel like fall here. The leaves have just started changing, and there’s a chill in the air.
Fall used to be one of my least favorite seasons because it means that summer is officially over, winter is coming, and orange, my least favorite color, is as ubiquitous as, well, pumpkin-flavored-everything.
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Our family spent a breezy fall afternoon wandering in paradise—Howard Finster’s Paradise Garden in Summerville, Georgia. Finster, a self-proclaimed “Man of Visions”, was a folk artist, self-taught and highly dedicated to his calling.
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Andrew Branch | Unsplash
The For Sale by Owner sign caught my eye as my good friend and realtor, Wayne, drove down the street. He was telling a great story, but I wasn’t listening. I was looking in the side mirror, trying to see the house we had just passed.
We'd planned to check out another place in the cul-de-sac, but now that one didn’t interest me. I asked him to go back.
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