Tag Archives: writing

Strangers’ Laughter

I step out of our house just after sunset, and a crescent moon hangs over the road — a silent slice of gleaming beauty in a dark blue sky. By then, I’ve been on a school board call for hours, … Continue reading

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Sunday, Sun, Reassessing

After a terrible week, my daughter heads to ski with a friend. Because of the pandemic, she doesn’t catch a ride with the friend. Because my daughter is 15, I’m the designated adult — for what that’s worth — in … Continue reading

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The 16th American President Said…

“I want it said of me by those who knew me best, that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower where I thought a flower would grow.” — Abraham Lincoln

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Dreaming

Often after the new year, the cold hammers down in Vermont, like a nail gun, sealing the human world except for well-bundled expeditions. The coldest I’ve seen is 40 below zero; mist moved ghost-like over the river, creeping over the … Continue reading

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Snow, Saturday, Living in History

Saturday morning, we wake to a snowfall — gorgeous fat flakes swirling down — the kind of sparkling snow that miraculously turns the world brand-new and utterly beautiful. In early afternoon when I return from work, the girls have shoveled … Continue reading

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Things May Start….

So long, 2020. 2020 might not have been the brightest year on record, but then, say, 1944 might not have been all that rosy, either. 2020 became the year when our house finally became a home. Three years ago, I … Continue reading

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Little Bright Bits

A friend and I have a habit of emailing back and forth requesting send me something good. We’ve been doing this so long now that I can’t remember when we started, although I’m nearly 100% certain this began in a … Continue reading

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Strange Bed

The forecast for this Vermont Christmas is 100% rain, which pretty much sums up the year 2020. From work, I take home a donated cat bed, lined with a downy fuzz and nearly new. When I set it on our … Continue reading

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Dusky December

Vermont December is not the season of picking garden zinnias or gathering wildflowers. December is the season of intentionality: wear a hat and mittens everywhere, dry your boots before the wood stove when you return, drive carefully on the slippery … Continue reading

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Starlight

At 5:30, my daughter picks me up from work in complete darkness. I turn off the lights and gather the bag of giant pillows someone donated to the town’s free closet. I intend to wash these nearly brand-new things and … Continue reading

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