Tag Archives: homeschooling mama

Political Art? Or Just A Lot of Stuff Kicking Around?

A tower of filing cabinets? My 13-year-old is simultaneously entranced and dumbfounded. I don’t get it. Maybe, I suggest, we shouldn’t think about getting it but just take it in. She gives me that look perhaps unique to only young … Continue reading

Posted in motherhood | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Wild and Tame Creatures

On his favorite perch on the dining room windowsill, my daughter’s cat suddenly stiffens his back and presses his nose near the November-cool glass. Beside him, I’m typing, and I rub his back. He mews an inquiry, looking at me. … Continue reading

Posted in motherhood | Tagged , , , , , , | 4 Comments

What Remains

In a 21st-century version of a paper airplane, my 19-year-old texts me at work that her younger sister’s favorite chicken was devoured in the night hours. I step out in the stairway and call home. Yes, I’ll bury the remains. … Continue reading

Posted in homesteading, mothering | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Summer, Again

On this first day of summer, mock orange blooms beneath our bedroom windows — an enormous bush that nearly reaches to the second floor — its scent so sweet it’s nearly liquid. Yesterday, a day that perhaps reflects our summer … Continue reading

Posted in homesteading, parenting | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Radiance

My 12-year-old went wild with the row of tiny icicles along our roof. They’re back! It takes me a moment to figure out what she’s saying. When I do, I jam on my boots, step out, and reach up for two … Continue reading

Posted in mothering, poetry, season change | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

One Word

Texting is like tossing paper airplanes to someone, back and forth, with tiny notes. My daughter texts me about the usual humdrum of who’s picking up her sister or grocery lists, sometimes bigger issues like financial aid deadlines, but also … Continue reading

Posted in mothering, texting | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

Emerald Blossom

A little girl, about the height of my hip, leans against me in the library, seeking gum. My stash melted in the freak heat wave. She looks at me, forlorn. The adult I’m speaking with suggests they walk outside and … Continue reading

Posted in mothering, writing | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment