cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
As the bow of our raft started to plummet into a Class 4 rapid on the Arkansas River, my pulse quickened and my adrenaline shot up as I heard my guide shout, “Paddle forward! Don’t stop!” My best friend and I were seated at the bow, in charge of setting the pace for the four…
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“When you get here, just come on in. The front door is unlocked,” the text message reads. I park in the circular driveway behind the last in a row of cars. Pausing, I take a deep breath before emerging into the cool fall air. As I climb the few stairs leading to the front porch,…
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Last summer we stumbled on a bluegrass concert in the square of downtown Fort Collins, Colorado. Our three kids migrated toward the front of the crowd to dance with the other children to the banjo, mandolin, upright bass, and guitar music.
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“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal….Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket,…
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Growing up, my siblings and I had a narrow summertime wardrobe: pajamas and bathing suits. Our days were spent playing in our backyard pool—Marco Polo, DIY whirlpools, and cannonball contests.
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