Outside our bedroom window are the leaves of a tall tree. As I write this morning, three small sparrows are gnawing on its tough, red berries. I tried a small bite of one once. It was tasteless and bitter, probably poisonous. It makes me happy to see the birds enjoy them. It makes me happy to feel well, again, after a day and a half in bed and a week of being lethargic. Much gratitude to Adam for being the sweetest nurse in the world. Nothing like a bout of sickness to restore one’s enthusiasm. Kids are good at that, too. And sunshine after a rainy spell. And girl talk. And a listening to a good lecture of sorts. And a good, long breeze.

I had a dream about a breeze last night. It was a lovely dream. Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime.

What are other things that restore your enthusiasm?

A man came into the shop, yesterday.  I had met him once before.  I don’t remember what he ordered last time, but I remember that when I asked him where he was from, his face lit up.  He told me the ways he loves Morocco.  I can be shy, sometimes, to ask people about their origins.  But, I think very few things make people more glad than talking about their homes.

This time, he ordered coffee and sparkling water.  He was surprised I remembered him.  He had been very busy working on his thesis.  He is a graduate student of literature.

“What do you study?” he asked.

“I don’t study,” I said.

“Good!” he said, with marked enthusiasm.  I thought perhaps he misunderstood, and I laughed.

“You think it is good?”

“Yes!  I think it is very good!  Let’s say you love something.  Let’s say you paint or write.  Let’s say you knit.  And then you go and study it.  I think something can be lost there.  Something important.  The essence.”  His hand gestures were thick like his accent and just as welcoming.  “Maybe I am wrong, I don’t know.  But this is what I begin to believe.”  He was a little sad about that.

Was he right?  Do you think you can lose something of what you love when you make it a subject in a book?  I think he is wrong.  I think there is something beautiful in studying, learning, sharing ideas.  And at the same time, I think he is right.

We smiled at each other, and I felt I had met a friend, again.

Hi, everyone. i haven’t gotten around to blogging much these last couple days. Nor taking pictures. But we are in our new place, and I’m thrilled to say that we are sharing it three days of the week with one of my best friends. Living with Janelle and Adam: it’s like a dream come true. Our things are slowly finding their way out of boxes onto the shelves. Plants are being put in the windows. Futons are being assembled. Lamps are being plugged in.

I don’t know why I never liked August. It’s such a bountiful time of year. I feel nourished by the good books around me and the presence of friends. I feel nourished by the late-summer vegetables, early autumn apples, and the birds outside my window nibbling at a tree’s hard fruits.

Coffee-shop customers have been asking if I’m taking classes this fall. I usually tell them that I’m done with school, for now. I know they probably assume that I graduated, but I don’t really feel deceptive. I really feel like I finished school. I didn’t go for a degree or security or a job. I went to throw myself in the academic world, to bury myself in books and soak up knowledge like there was no tomorrow. And I did that. And I loved that. But now, I want to do something else. I want to see live from the smaller corners, from the chalk-covered overgrown sidewalks of my neighborhood, rather than the fine steps of the university.
In this sun-soaked month, I am learning to recognize a lot of things in myself. Since I was little, there were only two things that I have ever really wanted to do: write and travel. I think it’s time to enjoy that about myself, rather than suppressing and then binging on it. I can’t share what I’ve been given very well without welcoming it.

So, happy August, dear readers. Feel free to share things you’ve been recognizing in yourself or even just whether or not you like August. You know I love to hear from you.

The air doesn’t smell like flowers anymore, or leaves or young grass.  As I drove out to my parents’ house, I rolled the windows down and smelt the afternoon sun on cornfields and the backs of cows.  Late summer is rolling in.

I woke this morning to quiet.  There weren’t cars or bikes or people walking to the busstop.  There were some birds, a rustle of breeze in the trees, and the jingle of the dogs collar.  I walked in the fields white with Queen Ann’s Lace and sweet with purple clover.  I stood on a mossy path amongst the trees to pick and eat the wild blackberries until mosquitoes ate me.

It made me want to buy a house someplace quiet by fields of wheat and waves.

I guess I’m still the country kid I always was.

As I learn that plants I step on daily are edible, pick wildflowers for vases or my hair, feast from mulberry trees that line the street, and just learn to recognize the plants around me, I find myself understanding more and more the riches in the earth, the great provision we are given in nature. And somehow, I know God a little better.

Yesterday, before a smoothie meeting at work (there are worse things than working someplace where the meetings are about coffee smoothies), I walked to State Street and treated myself to the perfume I’ve been dreaming after for about a year. It’s linden blossom perfume, sweet and old-fashioned. I’m sure the scent is out of style, and I’m not sure if anyone will like it but myself, but as I was doing dishes, I caught a whiff of it now and again. And I wondered where it came from. If a breeze was carrying in a bouquet of fragrant trees. And then I remembered that it was me. It was such a pleasure. Do you have any small luxuries that make you glad like that?

I took a few minutes away from Friday cleaning to sit in the garden and drink coffee. I wrote a real, raw list there that went something like this:

God, here is a list of the ugly, stupid lies I believe about myself:

It might sound lame, but it was honest. And by the time I got to lie number three, I felt so free, I couldn’t even remember any more of that bullshit. It all was so small. Sometimes I turn my head away from the ugly stuff I should face head on. Like that will make it disappear. But the freedom is in carrying it out into the light.

If you feel so inclined, give it a shot.

May is such a beautiful time of year. It’s nice to just be able to enjoy it, again, without stressing over finals or pining for summer break. This suits me.

(note: more on my latest writings to come.)

On the sidewalk that led me to work, fifty-nine cock-eyed squares were scribbled in sidewalk chalk.  It was quiet in a warm, peaceful way as I hopped and hopped.

Adam is sick.  I love him.  We sat outside on the porch last night and drank tea while the sun went down.  He loves me, too.

I will learn love.  I will love every day.

I forgot how wonderful summer is.  Hopscotch on the sidewalk.

Sitting on the couch for a moment, feeling glad as my husband cooks Saturday night dinner.  Watching evening fall as people bike home outside the open windows.  People talk so much about food around here.  Vegan, vegetarian, organic, grass-fed, low-fat, low-carb, gluten-free, sugar-free, hormone-free…the mind reels.  People eat so many different ways for so many different reasons, it makes my head spin to try to sort it out.

And now dinner is done and set before me smelling so good.  I’m so glad we eat in this world.  I’m glad I have food.

Good night!

My friends, spring has sprung. Birdsong is drifting through the open windows, while Eliot stares out, mystified, cackling back to them (I think he’s trying to chirp, but he sounds more like a raccoon than a blackbird). It’s so lovely.

With spring, of course, comes change, and a lot of things have been going on, here, in our little apartment. Small things, perhaps, but they’re big, too, in a way.

1. We signed a lease for a different apartment next year. Moving is a normal part of a renter’s existence in Madison, but it’s still exciting to me. This particular apartment will be the priciest place I’ve lived, but there are two things I am really thrilled about: a wood-burning fireplace and a second bedroom. I love being able to be generous in that way, to let people stay a while or live with us. And if it doesn’t get used that way? I’m quite happy to have an office.

2. I’ve taken to reading the Chronicles of Narnia again. It’s wonderful food for the imagination, and I find myself wondering things like what that crocus is thinking.

3. Spring cleaning is under way. Because as much as excited as I am to be moving, I want to appreciate our last months in our apartment to the fullest.

4. I’m reminded that I am, in many ways a country girl at heart, so I’ve taken to learning and enjoying nature every way I can in this city. Taking a cue from Linnea’s Almanac (a gift from an aunt many years ago) I am identifying birds and trees and planting any small thing I can find. It turns out, feeling connected to nature isn’t as hard in an urban existence as I thought. In fact, it’s really fun. More on this later, to be sure.

There are many more things than these, I am sure. Quieter things. But for now, I just want to get off the computer and watch the birds with Eliot.

How has spring sprung for you?

Last night I got back from working at a teen retreat. It was a wonderful weekend filled to the brim with amazing people, but, I must say, I am happy to be home from it all. God was very present at that retreat, but I missed so many of the richest ways we relate to each other everyday. Smelling pipe smoke on my hand. Kissing drips of olive oil off my fingertips. Sex. Espresso while it snows. Walking at night. The city early in the morning. Swearing. Curry. Music that I like just because. God wooes me with these things, with the width and richness of the world he has made for us. It’s amazing, isn’t it?

I pulled out of the drive playing music loudly, and have been hungry ever since. Hungry for sleep, olives, and cool, fresh air. Can you taste it? What do you taste?