Our first big snow arrived over the weekend, all gusts and billows, and our dear town was nearly plummeted in the best of ways. The neighborhood children scattered into yards front and back, wrapped in pom pom hats and last season’s too-small snow pants. Red-cheeked and breathless, they set out producing all manner of festive
I stock the pantry with beans, set bowlfuls aside for creative bounty. We dip maples and oaks and sycamores into a melted-down pool of last winter’s candles, string a garland for the mantel. I launder the flannel sheets, ready the spiced cider pouches. We intend to write down the first frost on our calendar, but
Our first night in the cabin, dehydrated and weary, we line up our mattresses on the unfinished floor. Our eyelids are heavy, but we steal a few pre-bedtime minutes for shadow puppets on the wall. We are here, we whisper. Finally here.
The weather turned quickly after unseasonable warmth, and last year’s burgeoning woodpile beckoned an early burn. So we burned. Morning fires on repeat, three times over, until the wax preserve drips clean from a child’s leaf garland. A wonderful mess, scraping beeswax from brick. We resign to flameless candles until leaves are swapped for winter
I will start by offering the very blanket disclaimer that we are all in the practice of offering when writing and sharing Anything Online™ : these are my own personal boundaries, for my own personal life, given my own personal limitations. This is not a standard to live by, nor an expectation I believe anyone
Shortly after publishing this post, my inbox became a beautiful jungle of sorts. I heard from hundreds of writers, creatives, and artists sharing a wide range of perspectives and experiences – Leaving social media? Impossible for my business! – to I’d love that. But how? I was curious to notice that, within each email, there
We had been preparing for a move, a temporary one, in which we would spend our first summer sleeping on a raw 160 acres of newness, of mountains, of yarrow. And all was in tumult. Ken and I were juggling our own proverbial spheres – he, putting finishing touches on a rental property – me,
Months ago, I am stuck in San Luis Obispo. The plane needs this one part, says the attendant. We had to order it. Might be here Thursday? It is Sunday. The airport is small, and a sudden swarm of indignation thickens the air. We have homes, we argue. Lives! Babies who need our care,