Two years ago, on the morning before a new year and a new chapter, I sat in front of the woodstove without plan or purpose. I watched the light come up over the White Mountains, painting the sky with strokes of lavender, orange, and pink, before muddling the canvas grey. A snowstorm was on theContinue reading “Two Years Without Purpose”
As if the world wasn’t topsy-turvy enough. Heading into the first October weekend, news and opinions and what-if propositions crackled like the burning red and orange maple leaves outside my window. To soothe my nerves, I quaffed a crisp Vermont IPA. Maybe Sunday, or the day after that, will be a better day to start my October sobriety.
In Vermont, sowing a vegetable garden in spring is part of the curriculum, like stacking wood in the summer, raking fall leaves, and or shoveling snow. And yet, I’d felt only ambivalence about the soil where so many others found solace, joy, and purpose.
Like the quarries I was warned about, the Internet is murky and perilous; it’s also seductive. Jumping in on a trend can be fun or risky. We don’t always know what is accurate or safe to share, and frankly, the effort to investigate everything before posting is too much work. But when the popular kids are already in the water, do take time to measure the depth and check for obstacles, or just jump?
Karen has become a popular derisive term for a middle-aged White woman who asserts her entitlement—who might demand her right to a manicure during a pandemic, or ask to speak to the manager, or dial 911 when a Black man asks her to follow the rules.
If Karen is a synonym for White privilege, it is time to look in the mirror.
Twice a year, I turn over my closet. In the spring, I pack away wool sweaters and attempt to iron the wrinkles out of linen pants and cotton dresses and hang them ready to wear. In the winter, I reverse the process. It’s a habit born from too many clothes and not enough closet space,Continue reading “Masks, but make it fashion.”
Coronavirus is impacting all of us in ways big and small. Thank you to the first responders, scientists, health care professionals, and essential workers. No thank you, “helpful” celebrities. My minor inconvenience is that I’m having difficulty writing about what I’ve wanted to write about.
According to the calendar, spring in Vermont will arrive this Thursday. While my friends to the south post pictures of purple-green crocus shoots, the snow in our yard is melting slowly into sheets of ice and patches of brown, uncovering every stick and ball we threw to the dog over the winter. The frost isContinue reading “This Novel Mud Season”
No doubt, we all have a long list of “shoulda-woulda-couldas.” Looking back at whatever might “have been” is to examine forces over which I now have no control. It is, in fact, too late to be what I might have been, and I’m okay with that.
On Saturday I watched Miss Americana, the new Taylor Swift documentary on Netflix. In it, Taylor bemoans, “We exist in this society where women in entertainment are discarded in an elephant graveyard by the time they are 35.” And yet, the next day, on Superbowl Sunday, there was 50-year old Jennifer Lopez putting on anContinue reading “Reinvention Part 1: Taylor Swift, Jennifer Lopez, and Me”