backyard
spilled milk | laughter
One day our life will be quiet and clean just as it was in the beginning before kids, and I always hope that in those days, I remember making the most of the dirty, hard
when spring comes
Maybe it was the way last week’s muddled grey clouds hovered like dust over my soul or the unexpected chill that forced us back into winter coats. Maybe we needed an event to share with
a nostalgic longing
Many of us who aren’t farmers or gardeners still have some element of farm nostalgia in our family past, real or imagined: a secret longing for some connection to a life where a rooster crows
the art of Thanksgiving
I love this time of year. The leaves, finally changing colors, form day’s light each with unique and separate detail. “Look at me,” they chorus, and I do. For they, like the dancer on the