WanderTime

It’s a mystical, murky mess in the middle. July into August, in the garden, is where hard work collides with luck, producing a snapshot of r...

The beginning, in the garden, is all about possibility.    And questions:   ·        Should I go heavy on tomatoes since they always grow th...

I’ve always preferred even years. I ever-so-slightly exhale when an odd one passes, and evenness is once again ushered in. Maybe it’s becaus...

When the pandemic started now over a year ago, I, like most people wasn’t sure how to feel about what was happening.  Lucky. I settled on th...

Umbrellas Over Manhattan by Dave Magee Memory is a funny thing. It leaves room for emotional translation. Space for the undercurrent of what...

  Normally, fall is my favorite time of the year. I welcome the gentler, cozier season after the frenzy of summer slows and the world moves ...

We’ve had a reliable pandemic routine, Daisy and me.  Early morning snuggles, Mid-morning walks, Afternoon Zoom interruptions. (S...