“The aphid is a stupid little creature which lives by thrusting its bill or sucking tube into a stem or leaf if a plant, and thus settles down for life, nourished by the sap which it sucks up; it has a peculiar habit of exuding from its alimentary canal drops of honeydew when it feels the caress of the ant’s antennæ upon its back.” — Anna Botsford Comstock, Handbook of...

My older sister invites me to come stay at a house on the beach to celebrate her 50th birthday. I rent a Ford Escape that has Bluetooth and satellite radio and cruise control, pack up my two kids, a suitcase and a cooler, kiss my husband goodbye and head for North Carolina. We stop too many times for too many potty breaks, get too deep into the country to find...

Little Rock, Arkansas is not a friendly city at night, so you must wrap yourself around your craft cocktail at the hotel bar and not move around too much. My tiny and withered arms pulled together great slabs of lumber and leveled compost. Seedlings are pushing toward light, waiting in starter containers for their true planting. I found God’s Word lying in green grass, covered in dew, and brought it...

We took the train into the city on a cold Friday morning. Union Station was gothic, beautiful and quiet in the early hours of the day. I sipped hot coffee and the children shared a cinnamon sugar pretzel in the white tiled food court. We walked across the street and into the National Postal Museum inside the Old City Post Office. We spent the next two hours moving back and...

I lit a candle in the dark morning hours and sat in silence with my nine year-old. We stayed in the quiet for only five minutes and then the day had to begin. My favorite part of the morning: the kids and I singing Looney Tunes words to the overture of Rossini’s Barber of Seville. Leftover drop biscuits held spoonfuls of homemade jam, or in some cases, small piles of...

I finished crocheting my little blue bowl, then wet-felted it and blocked it to dry. Once it was dry I held it in my hands and considered it for a while. The curve inward at the top seemed very protective to me, like a nest. I picked up one of the many bird’s nests we keep around the house and slipped it inside the bowl. The two objects came together...

My sous-chef drizzled the maple sugar on the scones with more skill and style than I’ve ever brought to bear. My return to work weighed heavily on my heart and mind all day.

Spent the morning with my loves at a cozy coffee shop in Arlington. I wrote in my journal about 2013, about my hopes for renewal and rebirth. My girl began writing in her tiny purple Moleskine, too. Tonight we will light candles, share our writings and craft a family vision for this year to come. Then we will pop popcorn and play a game, and then we will blow out...

The blue-grey light returned on Boxing Day, along with snow, sleet, rain, cold. I felt like I was back in central New York. I burned Nag Champa and played 80’s music in our warm kitchen. John fried cold slabs of leftover grits in the cast iron skillet, and I ate two of them with butter and my most favorite-est thing ever, Sriracha.

Pre-dawn whispers (I stuffed my head under a pillow and went back to sleep). Presents opened before the eight o’clock hour. Hot coffee from the Chemex. Sweet, soft challah French toast eaten continental style by a bad piggie. Organic, fresh-pressed juice to cut through the sweet. Beautiful music streaming through the house. Gentle, quiet focus on a new art.