cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
The afternoon air is sweltering as I do a cannonball and make a volcanic splash in the diving pool. I can feel the goosebumps on my arms expand like cones on an evergreen as I sink down into the frigid, dark, ominous water. I am taking my Junior Life Saver test, and I need to…
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Our dear sailing friend Len died several weeks ago. He was sixty years young. At his memorial service, my husband said Len was the most beautifully complex contradiction of a human he had ever known. More insecure, more bold, more obstinate, more open, more brilliant, more foolish, more connected to death, and more alive to the resurrection…
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What is a lifetime? If one averages a human life to 75 years, that is 27,375 days, or 657,000 hours, or 39,420,000 seconds. Those who served in the infantry during a war often say their time is 95% boredom punctuated by 5% terror. For most of us, our days are daily, ordinary, tick-tock time punctuated by occasional moments…
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It’s been said that a picture is worth a thousand words. As accurate as this aphorism is, the frame often says more than the picture. The picture captures our attention, but without the frame, our eyes would wander over the painting without focus and intentionality. This became exceedingly clear as I looked through an old…
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The playground was filled with big third graders. I missed being on the first-grade playground where I felt safe. Second graders had been moved to the main Tremont School campus and recess was now an uncertain time where older third graders roamed. I ran to the swing set and Sally yelled at me to “wait…
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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. Becky Allender is one of the original Red Tent writers; she’s been with us since 2013. Her voice has offered the blessing of a matriarch and been…
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My husband just returned from his annual fishing trip to Montana. This year he fell while trying to get his fishing boat on top of the car. There was a crowd of young men who watched it happen and a few came over to make sure that he was alright. Life holds moments of embarrassment.…
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My father was an odd, obstreperous, curmudgeonly rebel. He was one of the first in our community to own an electric car in 1972. He delighted in plugging the car in at friends’ houses when his batteries were low. He often wore a hat with the price tag dangling from it, like Minnie Pearl. He…
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It was a sunny winter day in the Pacific Northwest, and I had my Miele vacuum cleaner in hand. The endless days of gray hide the dust and scattered debris. But once the sun shines, I become a cleaning dervish! I hate dust. I hate clutter. I hate busy rooms with items not in their…
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I know next to nothing about hunting, but I know a lot about needlepoint. Many of the hunters I know have trophies on their walls—preserved, marble-eyed animals. I suppose they are a reminder of the many hours spent planning, preparing, hiking, stalking, aiming, shooting, and gutting, then taking the unstuffed body to a taxidermist to…
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