WanderTime

Ours was a whirlwind romance. Timing in the form of meant-to-be. I opened the big wooden front door in my apartment building and there he wa...

I love things that hold things. Bags of all shapes and varieties. Boxes with top that have compartments on the inside. Ceramic anything, the...

Mom and Me, 1970s The Holly Hobbie Years It’s our birthday month—Mom and me. Two weeks apart to the day.    October is a grand month for a b...

This summer marks my fifteenth garden. To be specific, it’s been fifteen years since my new neighbor asked, “Want to share a garden?” Withou...

Pool parties were a fun fixture in my growing-up years—a time before e-mails and texts. When party time rolled around, I’d dive into making ...

When I was a kid, shame was associated with something you’d done wrong. Or something that had been done to you, or something you should have...

Little shiny gems of understanding. Sea glass in washed-up social media garbage. The universe saying: I hear you! That’s how it feels when a...