Goodbyes are high on my list of what I wish I could sidestep, but I’ve gathered them just the same.

Pre-pandemic, I’m sure communication was challenging at times, but these past several months, it’s become a real workout.

In a smooth but quick flash, they suddenly locked talons and spiraled downward in some unseen column of love and air.

Each drop of dew hangs perfect and patient, knowing their fate in the hours to come, giving themselves over to it anyway.

We made it up as we went along—the best kind of days, right?

this entire year has been an unsettling amalgamation of gut-wrench and coin-toss

A retractable clothesline opened us up to a new possibility, one we would not have sought out on our own.

On the continuum of what we do simply because we have the ability, I realize that not all activities are noble or decent or in any stretch of reasoning redemptive.

I find myself wondering lately about the collective resilience of the human species. How much can we bear?

When we bought the farm, we barely imagined a humble flock of chickens

Twenty years on forty-one acres, and there are still places we’ve never left our mark.

It’s good and breezy today, a most welcome addition to the unblocked sun as it pulls the red line of the thermometer upwards toward the low 90’s. Perfect kite conditions.

I hope I’m a morning person until my final breath and heartbeat.

Like running confidential but no longer useful documents through a shredder, there’s instant gratification pulling weeds from the ground.

It’s a strange feeling to disconnect from a routine that involves so many other people, and tasks that really can’t be accomplished in the company of bees and trees.

For seventeen mornings I looked at the top half of that blue spruce through the rectangular frame of our upstairs bedroom window.

Food that good ought to be eaten with reckless abandon for all the work it took to get it to the table.

If I was the one who spoke the words “could things get any worse??” out loud a week ago, I deeply apologize.

Six years ago, I promised I wouldn’t buy anymore fabric, but do thrift store cotton shirts count?

Down on the ground, and the closer I get to the fragrant soil, the more I appreciate the privilege of where we live, how we live, and the web of life that supports everything else connected to it.