cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
It all looks the same. Fields split wide open, clusters of rusting cars and square houses bending with the weight of the earth. Buttes appear in the distance, but I can’t seem to get close. A hazy sky mutes the miles, and dry dust kicks up behind the tires of my Jeep Wrangler. Along stretches…
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The wilderness. That is where it feels like I am, especially lately. The wife of a dear friend I have known for 20 years passed away this week. She was in her late 30s. They have an 8-week-old daughter, their first and now only. Cancer took her within a month of her diagnosis. Two of…
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