Waiting for the World
I spent this morning watching a robin hop across my porch. It was so small, its feathers still looking a bit messy, like it had just woken up from a long nap. It didn't seem to know what to do next, just standing there with its head tilted,…
The Weight of Small Things
We collect things as if they were anchors. A stone from a beach, a book read in a different life, a scrap of paper with a name written in haste. We believe these objects hold the warmth of the moments they represent. We place them on shelves,…
The Breath of the Earth
The smell of sulfur always brings me back to the edge of a hot spring, that sharp, metallic sting that tickles the back of the throat. It is the scent of the earth’s hidden pulse, a reminder that beneath the cool, solid ground we walk upon,…