June 10 Papa, My lips and face are chapped, my hair stringy, and my legs sore from bracing myself against the railing of the Whale Watcher ship. We motored out of the harbor and skipped the waves toward Provincetown. We weren't prepared for the wind (10 knots or so) that filled up our ears. It … Continue reading Day Five: Winds on the Atlantic
"I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death... I must make it the main object of life to press on to that other country and to help others do the same." ~ C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity Gardening in the sun, thunder behind … Continue reading july ttmmh
June 9 Papa, After dinner at a pizza place last night, we drove to Saquatucket Marina and walked the docks. We'd eaten outside, and during dinner, a thick fog had come low over the Cape and shrouded the line where sea meets sky. Darkness fell with it, and in the dull, gray light, the spires of … Continue reading Day Four: Sailboats, Seashores, Sunsets
I find it hard to throw myself into something if my life doesn’t depend on it. My siblings and I used to use the phrase, “Do it right, or don’t do it at all,” and it came to my head last week. I didn’t realize it's a motto I still chant under my breath. Yesterday, … Continue reading The Worth of a Garden
June 8 Papa, Did Edwin Teale write those travel stories you were telling us about -- River Horse, I think it was? I'd like to read it. Speaking of reading, Stockbridge had a wonderfully regal and airy library with tall, paned windows and a white fireplace. Dad told us to meet him at the van at … Continue reading Day Three: The Inn
If I could find the stamina, I’d like to pick up Metaxas’s big biography and sit down with Dietrich Bonhoeffer for the rest of the summer, reading his words, his wisdom, his sermons, his German heritage, his spy work against Hitler, his imprisonment, his love story, his death. History is one of the things I … Continue reading Two Legs on God’s Earth
June 7 Papa, The trees are different in New York. The forests on each side of the interstate are lighter, thinner, less honeysuckled than back home. There are vineyards, windmills, pines... and a sign that read: "Correction Facility -- Do Not Pick Up Hitchhikers." Then, there were the Falls. I'm sitting here, trying to work up … Continue reading Day Two: So Much Water
I spent the night in a forest once and filtered my water from between two rocks, where a stream got caught and pulled through, bubbling up on the other side. It was just the place to rinse my fingers or fill my bottle. Streams flow down, and we use that phrase for grace too, because … Continue reading Grace that Roars
June 6 Papa, Today has been us and the highway: low cumulus clouds over farm fields and power lines, the smell of honey pretzels and luggage, and the interior plastic of the van rattling against my elbow. Not too much to write yet. I hope you don't mind an email each day or so; these … Continue reading Day One: East
At the end of each day on Cape Cod in June, I’d find a quiet corner of our cottage and jot off an email to my grandpa Larry. I'd mostly pull from my journal, trying to capture for him the way things smelled and looked and moved. He and my grandma (we called her Nanny) … Continue reading This Summer: The Cape Cod Letters
