Not many weeks ago I took the first uncertain steps to resume running after an injury interrupted a many-years-long stint; I wrote about it here. I have a new pair of running shoes to prove it, hard-won shoes begat by the sweat of my own brow and a little research, and a long drive to … Continue reading New Running Shoes, Perilous Decisions
Vermont
Emotional Habits: Putting Sadness in a Box
In her book The Creative Habit renowned choreographer Twyla Tharp writes about her work process. She starts a new box for each new project; anything that serves as inspiration goes into the box, along with every other object that has some meaningful connection to the work. When the project ends she puts a lid on the box … Continue reading Emotional Habits: Putting Sadness in a Box
Running on the Battenkill: Easter Sunday
Your body is a temple. I'm an adherent but lately have not behaved in a way to reflect this heartfelt conviction owing to circumstances and such. I started running about fifteen years ago for several reasons, chiefly to energize myself in the early morning hours ahead of a long day dealing with a difficult child. By 2011 … Continue reading Running on the Battenkill: Easter Sunday
Garden State Highway: Beauty in Unexpected Places
If driving were a metaphor for the rancor which seems to characterize the tenor of American politics these days, it is playing out on the Garden State Parkway in New Jersey. Any remnant of human decency that real, face-to-face interaction demands is lost once you're behind the wheel of a car. And on this particular stretch of … Continue reading Garden State Highway: Beauty in Unexpected Places
Warm Days & Cold Nights: Sugaring Time in Vermont
Yesterday Handsome Chef Boyfriend and I drove past three sap buckets hanging on roadside telephone poles in Upstate New York; somebody's got a sense of humor. HCB's brother would enjoy that, I am sure; there is a longstanding dispute in this family about who makes the best syrup—New York (where brother S lives) or Vermont. Though I … Continue reading Warm Days & Cold Nights: Sugaring Time in Vermont
Snowless Winter: A Walk in the Woods
The woods are lovely, dark and deep—Robert Frost Mt. Equinox looms over the Vermont Valley at 3,816 feet, the highest point of the Taconic Range, a finger of the Appalachians, and the oldest mountains in the country: Mother Myrick Mountain lies to its north, and Red Mountain to the South, the place we call home. Everywhere are … Continue reading Snowless Winter: A Walk in the Woods
The Wrong Side of Every Door: Finding Paradise
The Rum Tum Tugger is a terrible bore: When you let him in, then he wants to be out; He's always on the wrong side of every door, And as soon as he's at home, then he'd like to get about.—T.S. Eliot The oppressive heat of high summer in Memphis, Tennessee reaches its fingers across … Continue reading The Wrong Side of Every Door: Finding Paradise
Howdy, 2016. I already miss you, 2015.
New Year's Eve 2015, a street corner in Saratoga Springs, NY. My boy Bentley and his friend Billy have been with us for a week, headed back to their respective homes in Tennessee at an obscene hour tomorrow morning. We've had a great time together. I am always amazed how you can blink and it's gone: … Continue reading Howdy, 2016. I already miss you, 2015.
(Dis)Comfort and Joy
Handsome Chef Boyfriend and I spent yesterday Christmas shopping over in Saratoga Springs. We had fun, observed people, marveled at humanity, privately assessed it as we are wont to do for amusement. We ate lunch and dinner out, rare for us, and arrived home content if a little weary, with a bargain Christmas tree tied to the … Continue reading (Dis)Comfort and Joy
A Reflection for Advent: There is only now. Right now.
I am terrible at watching hockey games and have difficulty focusing on important things like, say, hockey. Instead I see the diamond quilting in a bright red jacket in the bleachers in front of me. And the little sign bearing a message which seems important, but I bet is often ignored. And other non-hockey details (yes, it … Continue reading A Reflection for Advent: There is only now. Right now.
Sycamore Stories 