It’s green out still. Muggy. It reminds me of Virginia, my childhood. Where it wasn’t really summer until you couldn’t move. That was summer. Humid.

BEFORE AFTER In between: Bedlam. Change is not an aspect of the matrix but the matrix itself. It is because nothing is permanent that we

On and On and ON and On the Water… How we want to spend our summers: lying down on the tippy bow of the fast-moving

I was reading this Sallie Tisdale essay about writing and teaching writing and I quote it here with the idea that the same, THE SAME

When I started this piece, my intention was to work with dark and light. I’d done the rich color: now, I thought, how about an

I’m not showing you the whole garden. I’m showing you one peach because all around it looks to me like A MESS. The plants just

aaaahh. This is the life. Quiet. Sun. A good book. And yet? This moment follows the day Ariella and I drove 11 hours back from

All winter long I had time alone. Lots and lots of time alone. Good for art. And for dreaming about summer. Summer full of friends

Those trees I saw in Maine. They aren’t like the ones here in New Hampshire near me. They are old and covered in grey crinkly

When I came back from DC, I was sure I was ready to move on to the next phase in this evolution of my silk