a hook by the door ....

There is a Villa on the Mediterranean tucked-in where the Oleander grows, and the Palms shade the succulents that cling to River Rock.

Gravel paths wander at will boasting the love of the one who made it so while Medieval stones pace their way down to a gate that waits. Sauntering through the gate onto the white sand, a splash of salted wind-spray catches you off guard. You are not prepared for the magnitude of the beauty, and remain firmly planted where you stand, while your mind catches up with your vision.


There is a small Bungalow cloistered beneath the mountains where the Pacific Ocean splashes against craggy rocks. Where the mist gently hovers and appends itself atop the Pine trees, gently dropping its dew onto the fronds of the Ferns below.

There are narrow forest roads shaded beneath canopies of Birch and Pine where, at roads end, they fall into sand and surf. Where the seagulls play and trip over white crested waves; where encrustations cling to rocks; and clams hide beneath the surface of water-smoothed sand.

The magic of life is where you find it if only you could pause long enough to stop dreaming and just live………