Every transition to a new beginning must start with an ending, and the ending can feel like loss. There is no good path to the future until the past has been acknowledged and released.
I jumped into photography the same way I jumped into countless other things: enthusiastic, certain, and ignorant. At that time, in the beginning, I hadn't the faintest idea of how a camera worked, much less the chemical science behind film or printing. I had Ansel Adams posters on my bedroom wall and a book titled … Continue reading Rel__s_.
"Home," as Jimmy Carter wrote, in a piece for The Bitter Southerner, "is a complicated idea." I've been sewing in the mornings, sitting in my chair by the window, sipping coffee and stitching in the few quiet moments before other more immediate responsibilities take the stage, which usually isn't very long. Sewing, and this kind … Continue reading Something about sewing.
I'm working on something for tomorrow, and since I'm still working on it and it's 11:30, and I'm going to go to bed soon, I'm reposting from the archive. What I'm working on, for tomorrow, is about the South and living in the South and leaving the South, which I did when I headed to … Continue reading Something from five years ago that’s still relevant.
"This could be her last Christmas," my daughter said, speaking about the dog -- one of our dogs -- last Christmas, in 2020, the first pandemic Christmas. Another of our dogs had died earlier in the year, in mid-March before everything shut down. He, the one who died, and she, the one who remained behind, … Continue reading Thoughts go astray.
(Why yes, this post was — once again — written on a tiny phone screen, this time while lying in a soft, comfy bed at a friend’s childhood home. Expect typos and silly word substitutions. Also, this is a long one, in three parts and using two previously published pieces. Not sure I’m going to … Continue reading Transitions.
We're going to need a bigger house, I said. You were not sure. The people who built this house and lived here for 52 years, the people who planted the twin dogwood trees in the front yard, they raised two children in this house, you said. But both children were girls, I reminded you. Our … Continue reading 16
When weather allows, I walk to work. It was a practical matter at first; when my son got his driving license a year ago, it was easier to give him my car for the day than to drive him to school. Also, walking to work was, and still is, the only way to be assured … Continue reading Up until now…