cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
We’ve all been there—finger hovering over the button, closed eyes, daring ourselves to do it—push send. I’ve found myself in that place countless times, whether sending a sensitive email or making an unnecessary purchase on Amazon. Questioning my self-trust seems more intense than usual in those moments. I want to do it but also know…
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My favorite piece of jewelry is a gold necklace—a dainty chain and a small gold disc that resembles a British pound coin. The outer edge of the pendant has a tiny scalloped edge circling the round shape, which gives it a unique beauty. On one side the word Hope is engraved, and on the other,…
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She teaches me what it means to go with my gut Trust instinct Heed a muse Frolic I planted an apple tree. Can I make a bath bomb? Let’s catch lightning bugs.
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As I sit here, sipping my morning coffee and gazing out the window at my two teenage sons, I can’t help but daydream about the days when they’ll be off to college and my husband and I will be empty nesters. I love my kids more than anything in this world. They’re the light of…
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There is a black-and-white photo that sits in my office. The photo is of a favorite four-year-old. In it, she is outside. Even in black and white, I know the sky in the photo is brilliant blue. She is looking straight into the camera lens. Her lovely little face fills the frame, blonde strands of…
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In honor of the tenth anniversary of Red Tent Living, we are featuring a monthly legacy post written by one of our regular contributors from the past decade. Robyn Whitaker began writing regularly for Red Tent Living in 2014, and this post originally appeared in September 2014. My husband walked along the rocky shore line with…
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I have always wanted to be a camper. (Not a literal camper, but one who camps!) Perhaps it was the imagination I had when friends talked about overnights with Girl Scouts that sounded so luxurious. I also loved Laura Ingalls Wilder books, and her life on the prairie seemed a lot like camping to me.…
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At seventy-one, I accept the reality that I am living the third third of my life. Sometimes the realization frightens me, but at other times, it brings me peace. There is nothing I can do about time marching on, so I may as well relax and enjoy. The realization that I am living the last…
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Am I where I’m supposed to be? Do I have the inner strength, gentleness, and wisdom to venture out once again into the unknown?
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My heart races as I descend the stones thrown recklessly at the edges of the earth. These coastal boulders are mighty as they break the waves, which threaten to wash away the trees and green shrubs, homes of bears and cougars. Whoever tossed them aside was very angry.
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