About Me — Cindy Heath
Naturalist. Humanist. Teller of tales. Autodidact. Lover of people, plants, places, and ideas.
When I was a child, I listened to the words of Big Wicked Bill and cried for the dog.
Now my heart knows why Stuart Hamblen sang, “Sometimes in the hush of an evening when the winds have grown tired and are stilled, By the fire, I sit dozing and dreaming letting memory bring back what she will…
Trying to write about myself, back through time, my mind wanders; I smell high-bush cranberries ripening in Alaska autumn, creosote bushes after a summer cloudburst, my horse loping through the Arizona desert. The silken feel of a newborn baby nursing at my breast. Sorrow, burying yet another furry friend under a tree. Now, here I am living in Texas, which surprises me, too.
Memories dance like shadows around a campfire. Which ones to share?
I don’t own a house or a retirement fund, but neither do I have a Bucket List, a job I hate, or all the answers.
