Jodi’s Blog ... From the Artist’s Heart — travel



I saw the world and found my heart. I opened my heart and became a part of the world.

The first time I brought home a piece of paper from school for my mom to sign, it carried me 120 miles away. These words, her name, a pen… released me from this town. Our class was going on a field trip to the Minnesota Zoo in Minneapolis. 120 miles away. I carried my permission slip with such care. I folded it twice, no wrinkles, as deep in my pocket as it would go. I knew the power these words held. These few words on this scrap of paper would take my feet from Washington Elementary onto the big yellow school bus. Up the three giant steps, past the bus driver, onto one of the green bench seats. Open windows,...

Continue reading



W.W.I.D.?

I accidentally fell in love with a French man. Thank God, for accidents, random acts, chance meetings, fate, worlds colliding, (maybe they are all just the chances we take) (whatever you want to call them)! These are the unknown gifts – the risks we take – the dreams we pursue without knowledge or permission. And that is the gift, I suppose, the uncertainty, because maybe if we knew everything involved, we might not do anything.  If I had known how hard it was to actually learn a new language (French) in mid-life (that’s maybe generous), I’m not sure I would have made all the same decisions – and how tragic – I would have missed out on the love of...

Continue reading



No passport required.

It was the best vacation.  I know we say that for every one, but this one was extra special. Every day was extra.  The weather - unseasonably mild. Sun just a little brighter and longer.  In our photos, we smiled, no one had to tell us to, we just did.  These moments were meant to be captured.  This vacation was the essence of travel.  Meeting people.  Listening to their stories.  Laughing - comfortably and uncomfortably --  like when she said, "We call them Yankees..."  Smelling the magnolia.  Tasting, AT the Magnolia, grits for the first time.  Knowing I would make them again at home.  Knowing I would claim them as ours, now OURS, and we would tell and retell the stories...

Continue reading