So here’s the real story. The story of my imperfection. Of how I’ve read too many magazine covers, listened to too many voices on social media and walked away from too many mirrors more dead than alive. Here’s the story of beginning a new page. Tearing out the perfect and embracing the real imperfect. I’m … More Rising To Imperfection
The boy and I, we snuggle on the couch and read. We read about a garden, tended and growing. We read about the rows of flowers. Colors, striped and assorted and fragrant with summers perfume. We read about vegetables grown to sustain a body. The body bent and pulling and sweating summers heat. We read … More When Chamomile Isn’t Just For Tea
Four letters. One number. That’s the date today. June 1. Two more numbers. 60. That’s the temperature outside. I pull on socks and a sweatshirt. It’s 60, but clouds hang low, moisture rises high, and mud oozes under my feet. It’s cold. And that’s when I have to be honest with myself. I am cold … More For When I’m Cold
It’s the last day of August, which to me often marks the end of summer. September brings school, and I remember being small and not always ready for hot, humid, carefree days to be over. I remember a Mama who baked a birthday cake for the last Sabbath before school started to sing through four … More Crazy In A Hushed Way
We’re up at the garden watering plants severely parched from July’s heat and the neglect of a family gone for the weekend. And although all nature appears to have me at its mercy, I am content. Content with the silence. Silence of the bees hum, hawks cry, pulled hose through tall weeds. I surprise myself … More What To Say Among the Discontent.
First monday of summer vacation and she’s down the stairs at 6 and I find her wrapped up in the big chair playing her pet game on my phone. She’s my sleep in girl, but with her first summer freedom she’s up and I can’t help but wonder why. I smile and trace my fingers … More To Listen