An Introduction from Robyn

At twenty-three (in 1963) I found myself teetering at the edge of an emotional precipice. The merciless scourging of a vitriolic, hate-filled inner-critic relentlessly ripped gaping holes in the fabric of anything I did or thought. Continue Reading >

 We are currently in the process of rebuilding our 2000-2012 archives. Visit back as we continue to add stories.

 We are currently in the process of rebuilding our 2000-2012 archives. Visit back as we continue to add stories.

Kristen Ruth Smith Kristen Ruth Smith

The Summer fruit orchard gives forth its incredible bounty while the meltdowns of my formerly trusty computer create an extraordinary and overwhelming sequence of meltdowns in me.

In the magic of mid-June into July, I am being deliciously overwhelmed with lush, succulent dead-ripe apricots that fall off the trees into my waiting hands each morning! The Santa Rosa plums are just beginning to blush reddish purple on the trees in the family orchard.

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