Dodging cartons of cut flowers and drivers unloading boxes of tulips and hydrangeas, I maneuver my way along the crowded – and colorful – Chelsea sidewalk. Coffee in hand, this truly is a beautiful way to start my NYC day. As Troy Baksh says – “Who can possibly be unhappy when surrounded by fresh flowers?!” Located on West 28th Street, between 6th and 7th Avenues, New York City’s Flower Market
As the sun is coming up, Sharon Maxwell strolls along a beautiful mile-long stretch of beach in the Florida Panhandle. Carefully searching for evidence of night-time visitors in the dim morning light, this early morning walk is a type of peaceful meditation for her. And then she spots them – faint tracks leading out of the water, heading toward the dunes, and returning to the ocean. After two decades, she
For those of you who don’t know the quiet thrill of sliding down a mountain – carving out turns and leaving tracks in the snow, relishing the scenery and the solitude – it is exhilarating. And always a little bit out of my comfort zone. When I try to imagine doing this with one leg, no sight, or without the ability to fully use my body to lean into a
Daily dose of gelato in hand, I meander through the back alleys and narrow streets of Florence’s Oltrarno quarter. A few blocks from the Arno River, away from tourists and crowds, lies a quiet neighborhood of Florentine artists. Peering into the artisan workshops and studios, you discover a rich part of Florence’s culture and history. Bookbinders, silversmiths, paper marblers, sculptors, marble craftsmen, perfume makers, potters, shoemakers, metal workers. Some of these craftspersons apprenticed under a master or studied with an instructor. Many are members of artisan families, and the skills and practices were handed down through the generations.
-Mary Wells Lawrence, 88, advertising executive and first female CEO of a NYSE company
Susan McVicker and Katie Gilliam describe their chance meeting as a God thing. With a mother-daughter age difference, they both marvel at the timing of their worlds coming together and the adventure that unfolded. Susan says she “couldn’t possibly have imagined that her art would someday help women on the other side of the world.” Four years ago Susan came across a dilapidated shoe box filled with her late grandfather’s
A taxi driver once asked Salvador Dali, the quirky Surrealist painter, “What drugs do you take? I want them!” Dali responded “I don’t take drugs – I AM the drug!”
I hesitate, wondering if I am truly headed in the right direction. Following my instructions, I turn down a deserted alley, made more gloomy and lonely by the heavy San Francisco rain and gray January morning. The alley consists of back doors and fire escapes and garbage dumpsters and Chinese signs. I come upon one tiny English sign and smile – I am in the right place. The Golden Gate