Category Archives: writing

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Sunday afternoon, rain showers fall intermittently. In between, the sunlight sprinkles the garden — the most delicious weather for the garden. I read on the front porch couch, the cats wandering between me and my daughter. I bought this novel … Continue reading

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Dissonance

One good thing a day — take joy in at least one thing a day — is my new mantra. Swimming or drinking coffee. A colleague moved a rock in her garden — how happy that made me. Spying foxes … Continue reading

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Independence…

Just after dusk, I stand by my garden talking to a friend when all kinds of things begin happening — a luminescent full moon quickly rises; a fox appears at the edge of a nearby woods and watches us; and … Continue reading

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Sunday

Meanwhile, domesticity. I’m weeding the garden after dinner when my youngest comes out of the house with the car keys in one hand and her driver’s permit in the other. I’m leaving, she says, smiling at me. Why don’t I come, … Continue reading

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Day by Day

In library land — as if the masks aren’t enough — I keep reminding myself that the world isn’t the same. I’m not supposed to say, hey, kick off your shoes and relax. Lie down and read if you want. … Continue reading

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Listening

Home from work in the late afternoon, I listened to my daughter share about her last day of virtual high school. Good God. I mean, what else can I possibly say to that? As a writer and a mother, I’m … Continue reading

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Driving

My 15-year-old, with her brand-new learner’s permit, has formally switched places in my car, from passenger seat to driver’s seat. The world, suddenly, is different for her, with the kind of freedom a rural kid gains with the keys to … Continue reading

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Step by Step — Unlocking the Library Door

10 weeks ago I never imagined closing the little library where I’m the director and chief window washer — and yet, in mid-March, I suddenly taped a sign on the door, locked up, and went home. Wednesday, I opened the … Continue reading

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Now, Somewhere in June….

Despite my covering attempts, the frost nipped the edges of a few of my basil plants. I stood in the garden this morning, chilly in my sweater, staring. Such a small, minor loss. June in Vermont brings us into the … Continue reading

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15

Fifteen years ago, I walked in the garden in the early morning, on the day I birthed my second daughter. Those were the years when “peak oil” was the looming fear. Now, the country is burning up, broken in so … Continue reading

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