cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Mom leaned her head out from the balcony of the InterContinental Paris Le Grand. “You can practically hear the joy out in the streets!” she exclaimed. She was right, of course. Paris is always bright, but at Christmas time, it twinkles, and all of the cars, pedestrians, and little shops seem to twinkle with it.…
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Nestled on my favorite side of the couch with a well-worn quilt on a quiet Saturday, I make quick work of the book on my lap. I haven’t read A Wrinkle in Time since childhood, and the plot has grown dim over the years, yet I still vividly remember my fascination with the story. I don’t…
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This is one of my quiet spaces: My green bench.
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It is late and my house is quiet. The lights on the Christmas tree give the only glow to the room. Christmas Eve is only a few hours away.
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