New buds on cacti bloom slowly. Unfortunately, these new buds aren't the end of our original story. As it turned out, the cactus at the end of our street--the one that the winter storm had damaged, the one that they pruned back to a wooden stump--got ripped out of the ground shortly after. The winter …
lent, part ii: abscission.
They finally cut the dying cactus down. Disoriented and deadened by the winter storm we had in February, its pads had already begun to fall off on their own, rotting dark, stinking stains into the sidewalk. Now, it is only a stump, not even a tenth of its original size. I am shocked how little …
lent, part i: disorientation.
Lately, I've been thinking about I've been thinking a lot about the connections between me, writing stories, and the growth cycles of plants. Well, one plant in particular: the cactus at the entrance to my apartment complex. On an average day, cacti are incredibly resilient. They don't need a lot to survive: mostly just sunshine …
a word for the new year.
Here we are again, friends: another New Year's Eve, my most favorite day of the year. Endings and beginnings, memories and dreams, the impetus for traditions old and new. One of my favorite New Year’s traditions is choosing a word for the year. This word (or words, as it’s been the last couple of years) …
delight & distraction.
Well, just when I started being productive, we went and bought ourselves a distraction. This distraction's name is Lou. He's eight weeks old, nine pounds, and 100% an absolute darling of an English Springer Spaniel puppy. We love him, dearly, even just in the four-ish days we've had him now. He is so sweet, so …
begin again.
There's nothing quite like the feeling of starting over. It's a fresh wind on a wide-open road, the sun warming your face, an attentive curiosity to all things new. My husband Jack and I recently moved all the way across the country from the north shore of Chicago to Austin, Texas, so this feeling is …
e.e. birdsall 