I don’t often talk about faith matters here. It’s not like I could be canceled—my digital footprint is about the size of an ant—and a breadcrumb trail to the table is more winsome than standing in the road shouting that a banquet has been prepared. But it is Sunday and…
KEEP YOUR STORY
I’ve just spent the past several months in a wormhole of dizzying deadlines. Call it serendipitous, or by the hand and divine interests of the Creative Director of our lives, pages of story are tacked to all the walls of that underground place. There is the very high word count…
GIVING MYSELF PERMISSION
Someone asked me what happened to Juliet Rome. Musing about beauty seems small and inconsiderate in the context of a border crisis, new global tensions, civil unrest and more discordance than I’ve seen in my lifetime. They are a dark subtext for pretty words. From our tree house I watch…
MASTERS-LEVEL ORGANIZATION
An older gentleman friend once came to dinner. It’s always fun to have someone tell you they’re comfortable in your home, so I’ve not forgotten his musing about the masculine touches he said were grounding to him. I do love eclectic style and neutrals, and I’m sensitive usually to whether…
DEAR RENAISSANCE MAN
My heart feels loss this morning, so I’ll celebrate him while he’s still alive. Thinking of him, I asked J. if he would call him a renaissance man. Yes, I think so. He had many interests and did a lot of things. Jars and jars of homemade pear-honey jam. Inspired,…
UNDER THE CLOCHE, PART 2
Me, inspired by an Instagram post: I’d like to enjoy a hot drink inside a greenhouse. J: Go do it. Me: Can’t. Have too much work. J: Oh, stop being so German. I’ve been thinking about my life under the cloche and how we all default to a space. My…