18 posts
Volunteering with the local elementary school, a fellow mom recounts her history in our neighborhood. “We just closed on a house in the neighborhood, and this is our first year at the school. But I’ve been living here since my 20s,” she confides, “I used to walk around here with my boyfriend at the time, looking at all the parents with strollers and dogs, thinking how that was everything I wanted, the house, the kids, the dog. . .”
I initially wrote this as one long stream of consciousness paragraph, which, upon reflection, felt like a mean-spirited way to convey the experience, though perhaps more artistically accurate. I’m not famous enough to expect people to suffer through such a confounding form, so I decided to revisit the original text with paragraph...
The peony plant is in its third year. By now it should be developing deep roots, eyes forming along the original tuber as it spreads underground to form multiple stalks, shooting up into an abundance of blooms. This plant is a dark red color I adore, the deep maroon that formed the...
I pull nearly everything from the crisper out onto the counter, the staples you can munch mindlessly, raw, that I keep on hand for my best kid-hack, the ‘rainbow platter.’ The wilting scallions. The zucchini starting to go off. To this I add the pittance of vegetables I have grown and harvested...
I return home after ten days away and without any effort whatsoever notice what’s wrong. The neon pink mums I labored to plant before I left didn’t get watered, and they’re shriveled now. Squirrels have dug in the pots, seeking homes for buried treasure and leaving a trail of dirt in their...
I’ve been doing a lot of writing over the past month, in my quest to evolve from “person who unleashes a steady stream of words on my laptop” to “writer people actually read.” (The fact that I’ve created these categories betrays my anxiety about being a pretender, as though I don’t count...
It’s unfortunately the case that roasting a rotten eggplant does nothing to improve the situation. I love eggplant, enough that I displaced some tomatoes this year to make room to grow it for the first time. I’d call it a success; we harvested a few fruit before leaving for a long summer...
In advance of vacation, we can look forward to the time away as a kind of salvation from the normal life that has grown to feel wearisome, like a burden. We’ll leave our boring normal life, and experience a taste of real life, something beautiful and thrilling. We’ll rest, we’ll adventure, we’ll...
July 2022 This is a sweet season with my five year old son, or as he explains it when introducing himself to church friends coming over for a potluck tonight, “I’ll just say I’m six, because I’m almost six.” He learned to read this year, practically overnight. We were on vacation for the school’s mid-winter...
Editor’s Note: there’s a backlog of material from earlier in the year I haven’t gotten to finishing up yet, but I’m finally home after a long season of travel, and it felt right to write about what I’ve just been doing. Expect to see more of the early spring make an appearance in the weeks...
It’s Saturday, and I’m ready to tend my garden. We’ve been back since Tuesday evening from the third of four spring trips (accidentally running nearly back to back from March to early May, when I’ve been planning to take a very long nap). Trip three was a much planned and eagerly awaited...
Valentine’s Day has come and gone, which means it’s time for my favorite garden chore: pruning roses. I love pruning of all kinds, at least, the non-metaphorical kind. But pruning rose bushes takes me back to my parents’ house, with their immense days of dry summer sun and luxurious swaths of space...
Valentine’s Day: get out the clippers. Washington, DC is graced with a long, soft fall, swerving briefly into winter in January before careening between tempting spring warmth and unnerving cold for a few months, detouring through weeks of rainstorms before nose-diving into swampy summer humidity. So, not necessarily your ideal rose weather....
My garden aspirations far outpace my time, talent and knowledge. My mom has been gardening all my life, tends a gorgeous, enormous yard att my childhood home and to my mind, knows all there is about cultivating beautiful plants. But she’s still taking a master garden class, has books like “Edible Perennials”...
It would have been my dad’s birthday. His nickname was “Burr,” and my family celebrates “Burr Day” every year with something he loved: sweet treats. When he was sick, but could still enjoy them, we would gather the best pastries from three or four specialty bakeries in driving distance and assemble a...
I’ve got lilies and birds in my own front yard.I didn’t put them there,I don’t keep them there.As they are fed and watered through the natural course of things– a nature put in place deliberately, so Jesus told us, by God’s own self,So I do nothing to deserve their beauty, their symbolism–there...
The rain feels fat and semi-solid, like snow that has only just melted moments before landfall. We’re holed up indoors, except for one intrepid trip down treacherously compacted-snow-covered back stairs: time to put the Christmas decorations away, now that we’re in Epiphany; time to empty a week and a half of frozen...
I feel a pang of guilt every time I go out to the back yard. There’s always something ugly about it, something ragged, overgrown, in need of tidying. There’s almost always something growing too; the rate at which growing things outpace my available time is part of the problem. There’s always more...