It rained on New Year’s Eve, and I stretched myself across my bed to read my journal from 2022. I try to do this on the cusp of each year, and I’d like to say it’s an enjoyable thing--- one of reminiscing and laughing over the good times had, and sometimes, it is. For example, … Continue reading A Year in Writing
Dear Lord, I am not the gardener I was in March, when the earth was thawing, and I stood on a blank slate, and the only green things were the points of the bulbs. I had springtime hopes, just as I always do. When I thought about August, I saw myself filling Wal-Mart bags with … Continue reading A Gardener’s Lament
The wildflowers grow small up on the Rockies. I looked up their biological names when I got home, and nearly all of them were "Dwarf" species. One alpine sunflower was even named, "Old Man of the Mountain," and isn't that perfect? The bluebells and yellow roses are just little, old Dwarves on a Lonely Mountain. … Continue reading Three Thoughts from the Mountain
FOR SALE--- White desk with scrolled drawers and just right for a little girl to grow up into— preferably someone who’ll write stories into its wood and not mind the dinks and bruises. I wrote my first novel on it, which also happened to be my last. I wrote my first few articles, then hundreds … Continue reading FOR SALE: Desk In Need of a Writer
This post is from last summer's blog series, The Cape Cod Letters, in which my grandpa Larry and I wrote to each other during my family’s trip East in June 2021. June 10 Papa, My lips and face are chapped, my hair stringy, and my legs sore from bracing myself against the railing of the … Continue reading Winds on the Atlantic
Hey, my friends. If you aren't in a hurry and happen to care, I'd like to tell you about my writing desk--- the things on it and the things inside. I've hung pressed flowers in the corner of my bedroom here, trying to bring a bit of the garden inside. One is a lilac from … Continue reading An Update From the Desk in the Corner
Dear Young Writer, There will be times when you write with the wind in your sails, when the world is too full to take in, and ideas leap up so fast you can't reel them in. And then there will be times— probably more often— when you can’t remember what those other times were like. … Continue reading Dear Young Writer,
I take walks, and the wind is the January kind. It makes the leaves chatter high in the trees and rattles the empty trash cans at the end of each driveway. The earth is brown, save for refrozen snow lining the ditches and furrows. Now is the only time in the year when I can … Continue reading Selah
I looked for something that could fill me in 2021, but I came away with a handful of air more times than I care to recount, because as it turns out, I was looking in the wrong places. The answer, of course, was that Jesus should satisfy me, ultimately and deeply, like an everlasting draught … Continue reading A Handful
Tom and his wife both came to last month’s neighborhood board meeting, which is always a rehearsal of restrictions and property lines. Tom, of course, wore big overalls over his hoodie. When the meeting was over, I asked his wife about her new greenhouse, and she showed me pictures of plants climbing the windows, which … Continue reading Fence Lines
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