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I have been working my way through Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants for several weeks now, moving slowly on purpose because it feels like I need to let each chapter take root before I love on. It feels like the
poetry
lizzy! she told us she spells her name with an exclamation point by the way she dances and flails her tail any time we call her she is an off-the-chart extrovert (I should know) who wants to meet everyone she sees except the riddle of small children most mornings after
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We have always had a passport drawer. It is the top drawer of an old Singer spool cabinet that sits on top of a table that used to hold a Singer sewing machine. Both were handed down from my mother’s parents. They have traveled with Ginger and me to
recipes
Tomato season in New England runs a little later than other parts of the country. Ours are just beginning to come in--at least, the cherry tomatoes are starting to ripen--but most wait for August. The good news is we keep harvesting tomatoes well into the fall. I would love to
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I am a couple of days away from marking ten months since my second knee replacement and three years and three months since my first. As you can see, I have the scars to prove it. Though they got me up hours after I came out of recovery to start
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It was already over by the time I got there. Ginger and I went to dinner with some folks and I turned on the Red Sox game when we got home, as I am wont to do on a summer evening, to find that the score was 14-3 in favor
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A couple of weeks ago, I got an email telling me I could sign up for a lottery tog et a link to buy tickets to one of the concerts on Bruce Springsteen’s upcoming tour. The date closest to me is in March 2023 at a relatively small arena,
recipes
It’s only Thursday night and it has already been a long week. I feel fairly safe saying I think I speak for a majority of people and not just for the way things feel at our house. As I said last night, life is hard right now. One of
poetry
Last week as Ginger and I walked around the Guilford Green, I noticed the flag was at half mast. I wondered out loud who it was for, in part because I had not paid attention to the news for a day or two, but also because the recent spate of
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A friend from Texas called yesterday and asked how I was and I said I was hot, and then I said I knew the irony of statement talking to him since the high yesterday in Guilford was only three degrees warmer than the low in Houston. A heat wave in
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I got up early this morning, thanks to our middle Schnauzer Lila, made the coffee and sat down to write my Morning Pages for the first time in two months. It felt good. For those who are not familiar with them, Morning Pages are a practice I learned from The
sermon
I preached again this morning, moving into the last few weeks of my bridge pastorate at the church in Westbrook. The passage today was Jesus’ first encounter with Mary and Martha, one that most people know as a story that juxtaposes the doers and the contemplatives. I kept looking for