Growing up in the Northwest spending my days at the beach, sailing on the Puget Sounds, hiking trails, driving country roads, and living at the base of the Cascade Mountains. I never took advantage of the beauty. Leaving the area for a quarter of a decade the visuals of my childhood never dimmed.

My senior year at the University of Washington brought me one of the best fortunes. I found myself in a poetry class taught by Richard Blessing. He was truly inspiring. The man could read poetry breathing life into the words and rhythm of the poet. However, one of the most inspiring concepts he taught me was that poetry could be freeform and not have to rhyme.

Years later, I was living in St. Louis. A friend persuaded me to join a writers group every Tuesday night. At the huge dining room table in one of the historic older homes, we wrote together for years. The poetry and prose fell into words from my pen to my paper. Poetry styles were introduced, a phrase or word was thrown into the air, and we wrote viciously for periods of time forced to write through the block—never erasing. The images of the Northwest and many buried memories—not all good—but therapeutic, fell onto the paper and have found their way into this blog.