I don’t usually write about summer; all the other seasons, yes, sure. But not summer. It is too hot and sticky, and contains too many memories of childhood boredom—me and my sister, wilting in the heat on a backyard swing set. On days it was too hot, when our parents were both working, we would … More Vacant Summer
In the afternoon sun, the autumn grass glistens as if dusted in gold leaf. Warm, halcyon hues are the ground cover. The crisp leaves turn over one another in the gentle breeze—they make music—a stirring song that is familiar to every ear during this season. We all sing it together. I am pausing this afternoon, … More End of Autumn Phasmatodea Sighting
The following below is based on the events found in Luke 7: 36-50. I love this story of grace and mercy–the story of intense boldness from a woman who, in her day, had every reason to be anxious about this encounter with Christ. I want to live and walk in courage as she did; worshiping and serving … More Bold Move.
Take me to the woods, where money can buy me nothing, and the currency of worth is an open eye, open heart, and open ear. I have great wealth in that sort of currency. You should see my storehouses full of open eyes, expectantly looking for beauty in every corner, every minute. You should see … More A Walk In The Woods
A quick exercise in describing — in preparation of starting writing back up after the distractions of the holidays. My memory of the Cliffs of Moher is as sharp and crisp as Irish winter weather. In times I am overwhelmed, I let my mind wander back to that place and imagine myself on the edge … More A North Atlantic Memory—An Exercise in Descriptions
