Judy Johnson poet

Judy Johnson

Walking the incline up to Lighthouse Arts, sunlight splintering off the water, feels somehow ceremonial. As melodramatic as it sounds, all of my senses are telling me I’m heading upwards to a space where things will be more rarified, and have more clarity. I can only compare it to that anticipatory tingle that hints at a remarkable writing day to come. When I reach the top of the hill and look around at the stupendous view, I have the weirdest feeling the cottages already knew we creatives were coming. That they’d been waiting for us to show up for decades, and had put out the blue-skied welcome mat. Read more…