Milieu - pronounced ‘mil you’ - is a funny French word - with a flair or formality - refering to the environment in which we live. I think of it as the social air we breathe. Milieu Control is one of the eight criteria of ‘brainwashing’ identified by Robert Jay Lifton in his research on communist China in the 1950s.

“Point and flex. Point and flex.” Andrea’s cheery voice encourages me as I lay, flat on my back, one leg straight in the air. A tiny rivulet of sweat drips from my pits. I’m in the fourth week of a month-long intensive and it feels good to say that I feel good. My back muscles are stronger than they were a month ago. I smile as I flex and then... a cramp seizes my foot. Yikes! I grit my teeth to power through, trying to point, but it only gets worse. I lower my leg, humbled. Flexing and pointing is off the table. I wiggle my foot, and breathe through the pain until it subsides.

Spring comes slowly in Vermont. Here, it’s “purpling time” - when the tree buds swell and change colors, autumn-style, before the leaves emerge. The rising sap swells each bud but the cold holds them in a slow unfolding of purples and reds. I savor this time of transition, especially now that the snow is mostly gone. My neighbor's woods are the birthplace of many of my letters to you. This morning was no exception when I was caught mid-step by the song of a hermit thrush. I silently finished my step and stood transfixed for several moments of splendor. She was right there, so close, but I couldn’t see her. If you have never heard her full-throated, flute-like song I hope you will someday.

On Monday, night came twice. Both times, the crocuses closed their petals, as they always do when night falls. I don’t know if they closed before or after the ring appeared in the darkened, daytime sky. So they may not have seen the flash. They undoubtedly felt the hush that quieted my chatty toddler grandson - a hush that filled us with awe. Awe caught its breath on the red glow just before it BURST into a brilliance of all brilliances.

Today’s Winter Storm Warning was displayed in the crimson sunrise spanning the northeastern horizon. From the first glimmer of light, (when I wished I was still asleep) I knew it was coming. Something about the dense golden glow and how the clouds sat above it… I watched the stunning fanfare unfurl from my bed.

When Donald Trump exited the courtroom on January 25, 2024 after testifying in his own defense in the E. Jean Carrol defamation suit, he shook his head and said repeatedly, “This is not America. This is not America.”*  (Classic DT multi-purpose statement.)

The Pacific NorthWest (PNW) - and the Portland area in particular - have wowed and nourished me these past two weeks with stunning beauty, engaging people and hard-to-put-my-finger-on-it-qualities that make me certain this will not be my last rodeo here. I feel a sense of being held in a way that I normally only feel at home. With my first official book tour and events behind me, I feel a gentle tug back East - but not before sharing this with you.

My friend Jane had the coolest book launch party ever. Her memoir, Spirit Traffic brings readers into the saddle of her motorcycle as she rides cross-country with her college age son and husband – before returning home to an empty nest. In addition to the expected reading of enticing excerpts from her book, Jane included a Moth-style storytelling hour with the topic, What Adventure Looks Like to Me. While driving to the event, I mapped out my adventure story and hoped I’d have the nerve to tell it – but lucky for me – the slip of paper with my name on it wasn’t picked. Today however, in honor of my mother and the fact that none of us would be here without our mother, I want to tell my Mothering Adventure Story.