cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
When our neighbors bought the house next door nearly a decade ago, my parents quickly provided an account of this couple as if in warning. My folks were “in the know” because the new home owners were relocating from the townhouse development in which they lived just a half-mile away. Apparently this couple received multiple…
Read More
The rain fell blue but quickly ran red as it inflicted wound-like paths across our barren backyard. Rivulets turned to ruts as water coursed in fury over red-dirt clay and gravel. Save for a few chunks of quartz, little else was left in the aftermath of this relentless theft of nature. The topsoil, fallen leaves,…
Read More
“A turtle got it,” my dad said to me as I looked with utter devastation at the claw marks on my prized watermelon. I was eight years old and had waited months for my favorite fruit to be ready. Days before I got to cut it open, our neighborhood turtles decided to make it their…
Read More
There was a season of life when my faith was as fragile as a newly unfurled leaf, when all I could do was wait, observe, and cautiously hope that I would experience the faith I once had. I felt far removed from that passionate and zealous girl who once lived overseas and realized a dream…
Read More
There’s an ache to my lower back as I stoop and stretch for the next dead branch with my hedge trimmers. Waste bins and brown recyclable bags checker yards up and down the street. Interspersed between each bin, neighbors gather dead things, heaving last year’s baggage away so summer can begin again. Together our bodies…
Read More
When I was a little girl I’d spend hours upon hours playing and imagining in my Grandma’s garden.
Read More
It’s been 2 weeks since we moved the first rock, and it’s still an unfinished project.
Read More
As I was preparing to write for this month, I left the window open on my computer with the May writing themes the only words on the page.
Read More
Her hands, tan from the sun, were wrinkled and rough, nails cut short and not a hint of polish.
Read More
I’m sitting here over my morning tea watching transition across my yard.
Read More