Happy Friday, friends. You’re here. You made it.

What a week! What a world! I fully admit to being completely overwhelmed. Emotionally, cognitively, lunar eclipse-ly. Between the boys returning to school, Dolly Parton and Tim Curry dying, the flood in Nepal, hormones, and more, I fear my capacity has been exceeded. The hull has been breeched. She’s taking on water.

However. We’ve entered Virgo season, thankfully, one of my (historically, at least) most grounding times of the year. When the foliage reaches a deep emerald green, and then ever so slightly starts to yellow in patches, as it is now, and the goldenrod is abundant and regal, and the Queen Anne’s lace is profuse and tickley, and the oak standing sentry beside our house begins to drop its acorns, then I know we’re moving into Virgo season, and so many wrongs are fortunately righted. My clarity returns, my vision refocuses, my purpose becomes clear.

I did have the profound privilege of playing mahjong in a pool this week. With a floating board. It was as hilarious and harrowing as it sounds. Just what my heavy heart needed. Laughter, water, friends. What can’t that trio heal?

On to the roundup!

*To me, Julius Roberts’ genius as a chef lies in his deep adeptness at simplicity. With just the gentlest handholding, he allows ingredients to truly shine. No gimmicky technique. No flash. No pomp. Just seasonal, fresh ingredients, prepared without fuss, with maximum attention to flavor. His summer fritti with whipped lemony ricotta is a perfect example of this.

*When I find a musician whose work takes me on a mental journey, I’m immediately smitten. Such has been the case as of late with the electronic musician who goes by the moniker Spunkshine. His alter ego (real life “persona”?) is David Asma, a criminal defense investigator and adjunct social instructor based somewhere in Wisconsin. His is the sort of sound you put on in the car, and find yourself seamlessly, unconsciously having arrived at your destination. Or playing in the bedroom at night as you wind down, only to be transported to a cosmic location residing only in your mind. Good stuff, if you like eclectic, transportive stuff (like me!).

*In a totally different vein, my friend Danielle has introduced me to J-pop (that would be Japanese pop) girl group XG. I have so, so many thoughts about the hypersexualization of women in entertainment and the male gaze (especially in Kpop), but with these gals, I don’t really have to do any mental calisthenics in that area. Watch this and you’ll see what I mean.

*Do Forests Feel? Captivating conversation between author/professor of forest ecology Suzanne Simard (who wrote Finding the Mother Tree, a book on the field of tree connectivity and communication) and Zoë Schlanger, journalist and author of The Light Eaters, which explores the world of plant intelligence research.

*It’s okra season! Use it now, in my succotash, and later, in my pickles. Here’s how!

*I’ve been thinking a good deal lately about words. Spoken words. How they have the power to both heal and to hinder. To encourage and to derail. In this way, words are spells. They change reality itself, like the wind. Turns out the Japanese have a word for this: kotodama. This is the belief that spirits reside in words, and, when spoken, release energy that informs a vibration which, in turn, shapes the word around you. Many religions maintain origin and creation mythologies about worlds being spoken into existence. Mind the words you speak aloud, friends. They’re more powerful than you can imagine.

*Summer may be on its last curtain call, but it’s still with us. Too hot to cook? Make these Chilled Sesame Noodles.

I’m off to scoop up my leprechaun shortly. First week of school for our 4th and 10th graders is in the books! I’m teaching a class tomorrow on Creating a Fall & Winter Home Apothecary at Fifth Season in Asheville, if you’re local and care to join me. Off to prep for that, and fight off a small head cold that rather poignantly decided to show up overnight. Get that fire cider brewing, friends!

Wherever you go this weekend, whatever you do, and whomever you do it with, may it be grand!

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I recently read about a desire to revive the art of “visiting” (or if you’re southern, “visitin’”), where friends and family drop by each other’s places with no purpose in mind outside of simply being together.

On September 20th, I’ve invited a group of friends to a casual drop-in to consecrate my writing cabin, which I’ve affectionately dubbed the witch hut. In the first of what I’m calling ‘witching hours”, I’ll make something seasonal to sip and nibble, have a fire going in fire ring, put on some music, and simply welcome folks to stop by and enjoy being human with me.

No plans. No activities. No purpose outside of helping me warm up my writing space, the first time in my 18 year literary career that I have a dedicated, stand alone spot to write in (been winging it at the dining room table since 2008!).

For years, I’ve helped plan, coordinate, and host thematic gatherings. Gatherings based around the seasons, with corresponding activities (shoutout to Handmade Gatherings!). Picnics based around locations and settings (I love you A Year of Picnics!). Birthday parties for my kids built entirely around a theme (nothing will ever top the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles party we held for a young Huxley, complete as it was with from-scratch pizzas, a hand built dance floor, and Glenn dressed as sensei Splinter and myself as April O’Neil, the 2012 series iteration).

And I still do very much love a themed gathering, mind you. I heard yesterday about a monthly adult show and tell, wherein grownups gather to share a story about a beloved (or besieged, or beleaguered, or beguiling) possession, and immediately wanted to host one. A friend shared a birthday party where guests all dress as tarot cards, and I was positively smitten. Themed events have a special place in my soul.

That said, lately what I’ve really been drawn towards is purposeless hangs. Get togethers that revolve mostly around the people you’re gathering with, and less about what you’re doing or where you are. I’m meeting friends tomorrow evening to have a drink and then go dancing, a last summer hurrah of sorts before the boys return to school on Monday. Dancing with friends, especially those who love dancing as much as I do, brings me profound happiness.

But mostly, it’s the people themselves I want to experience. And with it, the relaxed, undulating, rambling conversations that emerge when the pressure to perform, or achieve, or accomplish is removed. When the threshold for expectations is gone, we’re free to be, and share, whoever we are in that moment.

When so much of life is planned, and structured, and managed with an extractive mindset of productivity, I’d like to instead advocate for the opposite. Go be with your people. Sit with them. Listen to them. Share with them. Be candid. Be sincere. Be vulnerable. Be there now. Be somewhere else later.

Come meet me at the witch hut. And let’s do nothing, together.

Happy Friday, friends. You’re here. You made it.

We’re on the home stretch before school resumes for both boys on the 24th. Alistair, through the generosity of my stepmom, has been at a wonderful horse/craft/nature/discovery camp about 5 minutes from our house all week (my stepmom takes lessons there). He plays, romps, rides, snacks, then swims in a creek. If that isn’t the bucolic life then I don’t know what is.

Meanwhile, Huxley is rounding the bend on what I’ve taken to calling “shut-in summer.” This basically entails a leisurely lie-in before ambling downstairs post-noon, taking a rambling walk around the knob our house sits up on while I make him a cup of tea, and then heading up to his room with said mug of tea to rest in his cozy bird’s nest of a room (he’s on the second floor, with large horizontally-sliding windows, and has a full view of the woods) to chat with friends, game, and watch anime. A life of bliss, about to wrap up (he’s grown a bit tired of it himself, even). And likely his last, as he’ll be 16 next summer and will probably want a summer job. Time will tell.

I’ll be heading north with a new friend on Sunday. We both independently put our intentions out to the universe to find someone to get hype about Kpop with locally, and the universe provided. We spontaneously decided to look for tickets to see BTS in Baltimore, and they appeared! Our friend chemistry is fantastic, our interests outside of Kpop align profoundly (even the niche ones!), and we’re taking a chance together on a road trip towards joy. Dear longtime friends outside of the city are lending us their guest cottage while they’re out of town, so our accommodations are set, too. Divine intervention, yes please!

On to the roundup!

*My beloved Katherine May, she of Wintering and Enchantment fame (and an all around glorious human), just announced a new book, Tending: How Care Binds the World. This is speaking directly to my soul:

When her husband falls seriously ill, Katherine May finds herself thrown into the world of multigenerational care, trying to hold together home and family as they spin determinedly apart. Drawn into an endless cycle of domestic and emotional work, she is plagued by spiders, the subject of a lifelong phobia. And yet, in this new era of her life, the spiders now seem to mirror her own labors as she sees them endlessly reweaving their fraying homes, constantly alert to danger through the vibrations of their webs.

Drawing on art, mythology, philosophy and the natural world, Tending is a meditation on what it means to give – and receive – care. Sharply-observed, funny, and tender, it captures the granularity of care, its hardships and its moments of transcendence. “We tend to think, now, that life is what happens in-between, and that care is somehow an anomaly, a mistake,” writes May. “Instead, it is perhaps the most intrinsic part of our humanity. We resent and fear it, but it flows from us, unbidden.”

Achingly human, and with one foot always in the wild, Tending is a timely exploration of connection, mortality, and how our duties of care shift radically in midlife. It gives caregivers a visceral visibility, and asks how we can learn to see that unsung work as the beating heart of our survival.

*These okra fries have been on the menu at Asheville establishment Chai Pani for some time, perhaps even since their opening. While it’s lovely to pop in and grab a fresh batch made by someone else, making them at home is also an option, especially if you’re not near their Asheville or Decatur locations. Here’s how!

*Last Thursday, my longtime dear friend Sabrina, scooped me up for a choose-your-own belated 50th birthday adventure. This was quite literal, as she had two beverages when I got into her car, and she told me to pick one, and then tell her the letter on the bottom of the cup. That letter, an “R”, I learned, guided which adventure we went on for the day; had I selected the other cup, our entire day would’ve been different. Here’s what happened: cinnamon buns to go at GoGo’s Cinnamon Rolls in Old Fort; a stop into Little Switzerland for book browsing at The Little Switzerland Books & Beans (instantly elevated in the best-ever bookstore pantheon owing to: 1) it has a real, working fireplace inside and 2) a creek flows beneath it, viewable through a grate in the lower level wood floor); a hike down to Linville Falls where we enjoyed our cinnamon rolls, chatted, and people-watched; a stop into Blowing Rock for sandwiches to go from Moondance Market and Catering; all topped off with a leisurely picnic at Price Park. She took care of all of the day’s decisions, a gift I didn’t know I needed. Friends like Sabrina are never to be taken for granted.

*What do you get when you combine Studio Ghibli and Ursula Le Guin? You got to watch Tales From Earthsea! Originally released in 2006, the film is showing a limited run in select theaters this Saturday and Monday. Check here for more info.

*My friend Jessica, who manages Olive This in downtown Asheville, gifted me a wonderfully fragrant rose geranium scented olive oil candle for my birthday. I’ve got it burning beside me now as I write this, down in the witch hut/writer’s cabin, and it’s redolent of languid, undulating summer days and friendship.

*After my cancer diagnosis winter 2025, I stepped away from teaching. Aside from several classes at this year’s spring Organic Grower’s School conference, I haven’t done any teaching. I’m pleased to share that dry run will conclude at the end of this month! I’ll be teaching my class on Creating a Fall & Winter Home Apothecary at Fifth Season in Asheville August 29th at 2 pm. Details can be found here.

*Do you ever want just olives and cheese for dinner? I can’t be alone in this occasional urge. If you’re like me, look here: Dirty-Martini Marinated Mozzarella Balls (omit the gin if you’re avoiding alcohol, they’ll still be just as delicious).

I’m off to collect my little guy from his final day of camp in a bit. The first place you ever rode a horse should prove to be a memory he’s not soon to forget.

Wherever you go this weekend, whatever you do, and whomever you do it with, may it be grand!

I moved to the forested cove I currently live in nearly 19 1/2 years ago. It was March 2007 when I packed up the belongings of the tiny bungalow I was renting in west Asheville, located in a densely packed neighborhood, and moved out to the property my husband (then boyfriend) Glenn had purchased in 2005. Before he bought it, the 11 acres our home is sited on had been an organic edible herb and flower farm. Three poly-tunnel hoop houses still stood on the property, one 50 feet long, down in the area we call the “lower field”, while two 25-footers were located up closer to the house, vestiges of another time, another set of lives.

Prior to that, I’d been living in a series of rented homes and apartments, all set in areas with sidewalks, homes within view, and all the noises associated with urban living. I knew if the neighbors were arguing, if a car alarm had been activated, and when the postal carrier was likely to walk by. My childhood and adolescence was characterized by frequent moving. I went to 8 different schools as my mom regularly relocated us between Virginia, North Carolina, and the Florida panhandle (where, over a 1 1/2 year span, we lived in 3 different dwellings).

I was also deeply self conscious. While I didn’t work too hard on my hair or makeup, I certainly didn’t neglect my appearance, either. I spent a good deal of my free time thrift shopping, looking at used clothing online, and planning outfits. For years, I dyed my hair jet black. I was aware of how I walked, and what I said (or refrained from saying), and how I might be perceived by others.

Over my time living out here in the woods, I’ve begun to shed that mantle of concern. While it certainly might be owing to my status as a wife in a longterm committed relationship, or as a mom to two compassionate, empathic sons, or as a person steadily building and crafting a body of work they feel proud of and grateful for, or even simply as a human going through the unexpected gifts of perimenopause (wherein I simply care less what others think), my change of mental state has largely been informed by my going into the woods.

I work from home. I also homeschooled both of my kids for some time. Neither of my sons went to daycare or preschool, owing largely to limited finances and having a spouse around at all times to share the responsibility of childcare and educating. As such, I’m often found here in the cove, working, mom-ing, and simply living. As I’ve made this tucked-in nook, nestled half a mile down a gravel road, my own over these ensuing 19 years, I have steadily begun to become more like the woods.

Wild, untamed spaces, thinking, points of view, and ways of being are deeply important to Glenn and I. So much so, in fact, that we gave our firstborn son “Wild” as his middle name (his first name, “Huxley”, means both “woodsman” and “a clearing in a wood”; apropos, doubly so). To be rooted in a physical place for an extended period of time, especially one such as the one I inhabit, gently, glacially, tenderly informs who you become. I have, in this expansive place, slowly become wild.

Wildflowers bloom when they’re ready, not on account of the readiness of the plants around them. The cinnabar chanterelles that pop up in our woods don’t mind being enrobed in soil. The cicadas make a ruckus without concern for elevated decibel level. The oak, and the poplar, and the maple unfurl, display, and, later, release their leaves at their own pace, unencumbered by arbitrary constraints, taking their cues instead from the sun itself.

As I moved through the rhythm of the seasons in this untamed, forested pocket, I found myself moving differently. Responding more assuredly. Caring less and less about expectations, demands, and assumptions. Rooted in place, I leaned into the wild.

Far be it from me to cast aspersions on the goings on, doings, predilections, and preferences of others. Thank goodness people live and love and thrive in cities! Urban density and vertical growth are far better for the environment than sprawl. Furthermore, some people feel most alive in the throbbing pulse of proximity to others, to kinetic, dynamic sounds and activity, to unexpected and random human interactions.

As for me, I like it wild. If you were to visit us, you’d find cobwebs in the corners. You’ll find dog hair on the couch. You’d see and interact with items defined by patina, and wear, and age. You’d find the four human inhabitants to have untamed hair, the yard to be far from tidy, and the sense of timing and urgency to be a fluid one. You’d also, on account of these things, feel very, very welcome. Nothing is precious in our home aside from the beings within it.

I first watched the film Dead Poets Society right around my 14th birthday. It proved to be one of the touchstone, formative films informing the trajectory of my life. I remember crying through most of it (I’m a Cancer, it can’t be helped), but especially when Neil, one of the principal characters, reads part of this quote by Thoreau:

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.

― Henry David Thoreau

I went to the woods to marry and merge my life with a man (we married on our property). Along the way, the woods married and merged with me. The places we live shape who we become. In our little corner of Earth, you’ll find where the wild the things are.

I hope wherever in the world you are, you find yourself there, too.

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Happy Friday, friends. You’re here. You made it.

We’re in that liminal space between summer days that stretch on seemingly without end, and the antsy 4-week countdown before the boys return to school. Even they’re restless, missing friends, routines, and the unexpected aspects of days spent with a mix of other humans.

Meanwhile, I’m feeling a bit more embodied lately. For months, I’ve felt as though my compass was a bit off, searching for the horizon, feeling my way along with limited vision. That shifted, though, ever so slightly, just after the summer solstice, and felt especially as though it were dissipating about a week ago. I turned 50 on July 11th, and I discovered my true north once again.

It felt as though I returned home to myself. A circular path I was journeying on brought me through a full revolution of the soul. I’ve emerged with an even deeper appreciation for the people in my life, the passions and interests I hold, and the commitment I’ve long held to do what I can, for those who I can, in the manner that only I can.

It’s good to be home.

On to the roundup!

*I’ve started dry skin brushing again. I used to do it regularly, but somehow fell out of practice. After my breast cancer diagnosis last year, I’m doing as much as I can to regularly move my lymphatic system. Stretching, morning Chinese Grandma exercises, and dry skin brushing are all part of that goal. This brush is similar to the one I use (I can’t remember where I got mine, I’ve had it for so long). I keep the brush looped over the hook where I hang my bath towel, as a visual prompt to brush before turning on the shower.

*For a variety of reasons, we haven’t mowed the knob our house sits up on this year. As it rewilds, it has been intriguing to see what wild plants crop up out of the soil. In addition to enjoying the fickle finger of fate bestowing whatever randomly emerges, I also sprinkled this southern wildflower meadow mix across it. I scattered half of the bag there, and the other half down in the field my writing cabin sits in. Looking forward to the pollinators drinking deeply while I enjoy the visual field of beauty.

*This Emma Goldman tarot tee.

*Glenn gifted me a copy of Sarah Wilson’s new book I Eat the Stars for my birthday. I’m only a few pages in, and it’s a heavy, direct, contemplative book, but I’m already finding it deeply compelling. Here’s why:

It’s hard to escape the feeling that something is deeply wrong . . . that life has become precariously off-balance. We are hit hourly with headlines about catastrophic wildfires, unprecedented flooding, record heat waves, collapsing democracies, AI and nuclear threat, rising economic inequality, widespread unrest, and more. In I Eat the Stars, Sarah Wilson argues we are undergoing what every complex civilization before us has—systemic collapse.

So how do we continue to live as sensitive humans amidst such a tumultuous shift? What does life look like when the systems we rely on deteriorate? Should we be having kids? How do we make financial decisions? Should we be prepping? And, most importantly, how do we avoid succumbing to doom and despair?

In I Eat the Stars, Sarah Wilson delves into these pressing questions. Drawing on many years of research and wisdom gained from more than 200 conversations with philosophers, poets, game theorists, and spiritual leaders, Wilson takes readers on an intimate journey as she lays out a path for living fully, meaningfully, and beautifully through these troubled times. Our predicament, she argues, is ultimately an urgent call to us all to relish what is valuable to us—to eat the stars—and to return to our humanity once again.

I Eat the Stars empowers readers to move beyond panic, doom, and despair. With her warm, incisively intelligent, wise, and down-to-earth voice, Wilson creates a space for readers to confront their fears and anxieties about an uncertain future, guiding them toward one rooted in truth, hope, justice, creativity, community, and to step up as “warriors” and meet the moment.

We are in what we were warned about for decades. But from a crisis comes stunning possibility.

*After my morning cup of strong black tea, I continually brew pots of either herbal or green teas for the rest of the day. I also drink water, but it’s nowhere near as exciting. I recently discovered green tea with ginger yuzu by Yamamotoyama from a local Asian foods store. It has proven to perk up my afternoons immeasurably.

*Completely captivated by Sila, a film about Inuit women and inua, the indigenous word for the life force that imbues everything. If we experience the earth as entirely alive, as animated, as sentient, we’d be far, far less inclined to treat it in such an extractive, disposable manner. We have much to learn. Or, more so, to unlearn.

Off to play mahjong with friends tonight, which is always a balm for the soul. And then a largely quiet weekend is in store, outside of a movement class Sunday evening. It’s raining now, and has been for a good part of this week. This is the weather I thrive in, like a happy little frog.

Wherever you go this weekend, whatever you do, and whomever you do it with, may it be grand!

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When I was pregnant with my older son, Huxley, now age 15, I nearly ate my weight in watermelon. At that time, summer 2010, it was the hottest summer in 50 years. I ate it all day, every summer day, from dawn to dusk. Pretty sure there was even nocturnal watermelon consumption.

I must’ve passed on my fondness for it in utero because he, and his younger brother, Alistair, cannot get enough of the ruby-hued fruit. In this house, watermelon is a saving grace, consumed with gusto and gratitude, June to September.

Summer is not my favorite season. But watermelon is one of its salvations. The only way out of something is through it, so I’m leaning into the watery, sweltering weight of summer with many a melon.

Here are the top 4 recipes on rotation here in the Cove all summer long. You can drink it (Watermelon Aguas Frescas), eat it fresh with a smoky seasoning sprinkled atop (Fruta Picada), freeze it into pops (Watermelon Lime Popsicles), and preserve the rind for year-round enjoyment (Pickled Watermelon Rind). A smattering of delights for all.

From my home to yours, may watermelon offer a sweet respite from the heat, today, tomorrow, and in the days to come.

Watermelon Aguas Frescas

Makes: ½ gallon.

You Will Need:

4 pounds watermelon chunks (seeded)

2 cups cold water

Juice from 1 lime

4 to 6 tablespoons honey or agave (to taste)

Ice, to serve

To Make:

1. Puree the watermelon and water in a food processor or blender until smooth. Depending on the capacity of your machine, you may need to do this in two batches.

2. Strain the puree through a fine-mesh sieve placed over a pitcher. Compost the solids.

3. Add the lime juice and honey to the watermelon juice. Whisk to fully combine.

4. Cover the pitcher with a lid, and store in the refrigerator. Serve in individual glasses with ice. Consume within 1 week.

Fruta Picada

Makes: 8-10 servings.

You Will Need:

Spice Blend:

3 tablespoons chipotle powder

3 tablespoons smoky paprika

1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons sea salt

1 tablespoon cumin seeds

1 ½ teaspoons celery seeds

Fruit:

1 pineapple, peeled, cored, and cut into spears

½ seeded watermelon, peeled and cut into spears

1 large jicama, peeled and cut into spears

1 large papaya, peeled and cut into spears

Juice from 2 limes

To Make:

1. Grind all of spice blend ingredients together in a spice grinder or food processor or with a mortar and pestle until finely powdered. Transfer to a lidded container with a shaker screen.

2. Place all of the fruit spears onto a serving platter. Squeeze the fresh lime juice evenly across. To serve, portion out as much fruit as you’d like, and then sprinkle with the spice blend.

(Image by Erin Adams)

Watermelon Lime Popsicles

Makes: About ten 2 1/2-ounce popsicles.

You Will Need:

1 quart of coarsely chopped watermelon pieces, approximately (peel and seeds removed)

1/3 cup + 1 tablespoon water

1/3 cup + 1 tablespoon agave

Zest and juice of 1 lime

2 tablespoons finely minced fresh mint, basil, or lemon verbena (optional)

To Make:

1. Puree the watermelon in a blender or food processor. Pour the puree into a mixing bowl or large measuring container with a pourable spout and handle. Set aside.

2. Bring the water to a boil (it’s fine to do so either on the stovetop, in the microwave, or using an electric kettle). Place the agave in a heatproof bowl (I used a Pyrex measuring cup). Pour the boiling water over the agave. Whisk until the liquids are fully blended. Set this simple syrup aside for 5-10 minutes until the mixture has cooled a bit.

3. Add the cooled simple syrup, lime zest, lime juice, and herbs, if using, to the watermelon puree. Whisk to fully combine.

4. Pour the mixture into popsicle molds, leaving a bit of room at the top of each mold to account for expansion upon freezing. Place into the freezer for 1 hour. Remove the popsicles, insert wooden popsicle sticks about halfway, and return to the freezer until the popsicles are fully frozen.

5. When ready to serve, run hot water over the mold, tugging gently on a popsicle stick, just until the popsicle releases.

Pickled Watermelon Rind

Makes: About 3 pint jars

You Will Need:

6 cups water

½ cup pickling salt

6 cups peeled 1-inch watermelon rind cubes

1 ½ cups white vinegar

2 cups sugar

2 teaspoons whole cloves

2 teaspoons whole allspice

Three 2-inch cinnamon sticks, broken in half

2 teaspoons black peppercorns

To Make:

1. Place the water and salt in a large nonreactive bowl, such as glass or ceramic. Stir until the salt has fully dissolved. Add the watermelon cubes and stir to combine. Cover the bowl loosely with a kitchen cloth, and set aside at room temperature for 8 to 12 hours.

2. Transfer the mixture to a colander. Run cold water over the watermelon rind and drain.

3. Place three pint jars into a canner or stock pot, either by putting them into the canning rack (if included) and lowering the rack down, or by simply placing the jars onto a metal cake cooling rack or silicone trivet at the bottom of the pot.

4. Fill the pot and jars with enough water to fill the jars, plus 2-3 inches above them. Cover the pot and set over medium heat.

5. Bring the vinegar, sugar, cloves, allspice, cinnamon, and peppercorns to a boil in a medium pot. Add the watermelon rind, and boil for 8 minutes.

6. Using a jar lifter, remove the hot jars from the canner and place on top of a kitchen cloth on the counter. With the help of a canning funnel, pack the pickles into the jars, reserving ½-inch headspace.

7. Use a spatula or wooden chopstick to remove any trapped air bubbles around the interior circumference of the jars. Wipe the rims clean with a damp cloth. Place on the lids and screw bands, tightening only until fingertip-tight.

8. Again using a jar lifter, slowly place the filled jars in the canner. Bring the water to a boil, and then process for 10 minutes, starting the timer once the water is at a full, rolling boil. Adjust for altitude as needed.

9. Carefully remove the jars from the canner, using either the canning rack handles or a jar lifter. Set the hot jars onto a dry kitchen cloth. Listen and watch for the jars to seal, remove the screw bands and dry and store them, and then leave the jars to cool on the kitchen counter until fully at room temperature. Wipe the rims of the jars with a damp cloth once fully cooled.

10. Label and date, and then store in a cool, dry area, such as a pantry or cabinet. Consume ideally within 1 year.

I am frequently the first person up in our home. Occasionally, Alistair will beat me to it, morning dove that he is (like his mama). Most often, though, it’s me who pads into the kitchen first, wool-slippered and sock-ed during colder months, slide-clad when it’s hot and humid and the feet demand liberation.

Many routines, over time, become ever so gently refined into rituals, intended or not. They transform from mere acts of habit, undulating and slowly stretching into behaviors imbued with a sacrosanct quality. Such is the case for me and the manner in which I wake up our home.

Far from a burden, it has become an act of devotion. A way to silently show the inhabitants of our home (human and otherwise), that I am happy to be of service to them. To make my love for them manifest, through action and remembrance.

It is also an enduring gift I give myself anew each morning. Because, as the saying goes, you can’t pour from an empty cup. Or, as the sign my mom used to have up in her home read: If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

I rouse the animals, the humans, the air, in winter the wood stove, and the very house itself. Here’s how I do it.

*Because they simply would abide no alternative, the very first thing I do upon rising after turning on the lights in the living room, dining room, and kitchen, is give the dogs and cats their breakfasts. Two dogs and two cats can offer up quite the chorus of insistent requests, so meeting their needs is paramount.

*Once that is complete, I pour a small amount of kombucha into a ceramic cup. I then set it aside to fizz a bit and come slightly to room temp.

*Next, I collect the electric kettle, fill it with water, plug it in, and turn it on.

*While the water heats, I set out two ceramic mugs (often the same ones, occasionally rotated within a small collection of options Glenn prefers and those I like), and place a bag of PG Tips, Barry’s, Typhoo, or some other strong black tea in each mug. I get out the honey, the tea bag squeezer, a spoon and wooden spoon rest, and set those all on the counter beside the mugs. During the school year/school week, I also make a mug of tea for Huxley. Over the summer, he sleeps in and I wait to make his until he finally emerges from upstairs, poofy-haired and groggy-faced.

*Once heated to a full, rolling boil, I pour the water into the mugs, and set the microwave alarm for 6 minutes.

*I then set out Glenn’s medications for the morning in a small wooden bowl, placing it on the counter beside his mug of tea.

*Once the timer sounds, I remove the tea bags, squeezing them to extract as much of the volatile oils on the tea leaves as possible, put the bags with the compost, and then add honey and half and half to my mug (Glenn completes his tea’s flavoring once he comes into the kitchen).

*Having attended to the animal and human needs, I turn to those of the house. If it’s during the colder months of the year (for us here in the mountains of Western North Carolina, that’s typically mid-October to roughly early April), I’ll open the wood stove door, remove any ashes and place them in the ash bin, and either feed a new log if there are active cinders, or add newspaper and kindling to begin a new fire.

*Next, I light a candle on the kitchen counter that is located behind the mugs. If it’s the school week, I omit this step, including it instead during the summer break and on weekends. The scent of the candle always parallels the season at hand.

*After the candle is lit (the aforementioned days notwithstanding), I choose an incense stick to burn. We have an abundant collection, so I make my selection based either purely on whim, or desired fragrance to dovetail with the time of year we’re in. In so doing, I wake up the house itself. I have long felt that, in addition to the 4 humans and 4 furry creatures that live in our little bungalow on a knob in the woods, the house itself is another member of the family. The house becomes roused from its slumber, gently brought into a state of kinesis after one of dormancy overnight via the delivery of fragrance. The scent also guides my awareness back into my body and out of my monkey mind and its thoughts, jumping from branch to branch as it is wont to do.

*I blow out the candle, allow the incense to permeate, and begin mapping out our day.

These acts, in combination, constitute my morning ritual of rousing my home. From there, it’s on to the needs of the day, whether that entails a school run, out the door a bit after 7 am, a bit of stretching and weight-lifting and crunches, or a languid amble across social media and news headlines. The day dictates next steps.

We begin slowly out of the gate here in the cove, then move up to a gentle trot before breaking into a full run. That gentle transition from nighttime to morning sets the tone for the rest of the day. It is my silent, reliable benediction for constancy, nourishment, focus, safety, and, later, momentum for my home and its inhabitants.

If you’d like to read up on how I put our house to sleep, I wrote about that, too!

Happy Friday, friends. You’re here. You made it.

Is it hot where you are? It’s decidedly hot here, in the mountains, which is especially unnerving, as this is where folks typically, historically, go to so as to escape the heat. It was 96 degrees here yesterday. There’s no escaping what we’re collectively witnessing. The entire Earth is responding, because the entire Earth is one organism. Nothing happens in isolation. I hope wherever you are, you have somewhere cooling to shelter in, something cooling to sip and eat, and something cooling to step and dip into. Stay hydrated, stay alive. We need you here.

I received good news health-wise yesterday, which is so reassuring! I don’t always notice how much I’m holding onto my plans, hopes, future aspirations while awaiting health results until after they come in. It would appear that what has been taking place with me over the past 5-6 weeks is all bundled into the “common yet challenging” umbrella of perimenopause symptoms, and not the more concerning “side effects of breast cancer medication” one. Now that I know, I can feel my momentum raring up again. Giddy up!

In other non-heatwave and health-wave news, on to the round up!

*I kept seeing chrysanthemum tea suggested as a cooling beverage to consume during the summer months generally, and especially during the heatwaves, for some time now. I found some recently at a local Asian foods store that was a blend of the dried flowers and pu erh tea, and have been making a pot of it every day in the morning after I’ve finished my breakfast/wake-up strong black tea (we switched from coffee to tea years ago and both Glenn and I are all the better for it). I brew it for 4 minutes, and then allow it to cool a wee bit before enjoying. I don’t love super cold beverages (nor does my body, for years now), but if you’d like it a bit cold, add some ice when serving. Here’s a recipe for making your own chrysanthemum pu erh blend.

*Last summer, I made a cucumber/chickpea/feta salad with fresh and dried herbs on the fly, no recipe. Its memory has haunted me since it began getting hot out last month. While I don’t have a recipe of my own to share with you, here’s one worth trying. For extra protein, a can of smoked trout/salmon or tuna would be lovely here. Could also swap out the feta for labneh. Go heavy on the herbs, using whatever moves you. Consider adding fresh lemon zest. Sprinkle with your best finishing salt at serving time. All hits, no misses with this one.

*A conversation about author Dan Brown’s newest book led me down a rabbit hole, landing squarely on a consideration of the noetic sciences. This is a branch of study exploring, through objective means, subjective phenomena as it relates to consciousness, the mind, and the physical world. Topics such as intuition, whether intention affects physical reality, telepathy, precognition, and much more are examined. As it turned out, we had a book on the topic on hand! Noetic Science: Exploring the Power of Collective Consciousness by Michael Kerrigan is raising as many questions for me as it introduces topics of inquiry, which is just how I like it. When learning stops, so do we.

*Glenn recently brought home the children’s book Stars: A Family Guide To the Night Sky by Adam Ford. He’d found it at a thrift store. It’s a lovely book to turn to with children (or on you own, if you’re new to stargazing), with compelling illustrations and approachable text.

*The Universe Might Be Teeming With Strange Forms of Consciousness. We’re limited in our perceptive abilities on account of our senses. We rely on empirical, sensorial data provided courtesy of phenomena we see, hear, taste, touch, and smell. Those senses are as encompassing as they are potentially limiting, however, when it comes to the capacity for perceiving other forms of consciousness. What else is out there?!

*Got peaches? I’ve got ways to put them up!

*We started watching the Japanese episodic series Midnight Diner a few nights ago. It shares the goings-on, concerns, losses, and triumphs of customers who frequent a diner open only from midnight to 7 am. Each episode subtly focuses on a particular dish amidst the drama, concluding with a to-the-camera tutorial on how to cook it. We’re only two episodes in, with the first episode mentioning rolled omelets and the second “cat rice” (Neko manma), a Japanese comfort food consisting of small bowl of warm rice topped with bonito flakes and shoyu (Japanese soy sauce). I had all of the ingredients for making it on hand, so I pulled out our rice maker and made some today. It’s delicious!

*Taking a walk in the woods can save your life. Truly. When trees emit phytoncides, the compounds they release to defend themselves against insects, fungi, and bacteria, humans walking through the woods inhale and essentially consume those particles. Research has shown natural killer cell activity is catalyzed after breathing in phytoncides. These are the cells that scavenge for damaged, abnormal, and virus-afflicted cells. The more you have, the better your health outcomes will be. So get out there! The more conifers in the woods you’re walking, the better, as pine, cedar, cypress, and fir are among the most researched and prodigious phytoncide emitters. Even short walks have a lasting impact. Take your time. A cardio workout isn’t the objective here. Contemplative pacing and deep breaths are. Be present with the woods. It wants to be in relationship with you.

The image above is from a Father’s Day/Solstice picnic we had up at Mt. Pisgah picnic grounds on the Blue Ridge Parkway. We were celebrating with my dad, his wife (my stepmom of over 40 years), my mother-in-law, Glenn, our boys, and my sister Theo alongside her new husband, Spencer, and his two young sons. I had the idea to put out a big, messy, abundant charcuterie spread, where we could just grab things, be casual, and let ease be the vibe. It proved to be all those things! Eat outside! Picnics are good for you and for the Earth, because the more you spend time outside, the more you appreciate it, and the more you appreciate something, the better you want to care for and steward it.

Big milestone birthday for the United States tomorrow. Things are so fraught here at the moment, and since this country’s inception, honestly, that I have little cause for celebration. That said, I’m nothing if not a hopeful person. So. I’ll keep working towards and advocating for the rights of all citizens on this planet to live, and love, and learn, and grow, and thrive unabashedly, without prejudice, with support, with liberty and justice FOR ALL.

Wherever you go this weekend, whatever you do, and whomever you do it with, may it be grand.

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Happy Friday, friends. You’re here. You made it.

Our younger son has been in a half-day wrestling camp all week. The fact that he was born at 27 weeks, weighed 1 pound, 12 ounces, and is now squaring off on a mat with other kiddos, in a body riddled with natural muscle and innate firmness, will never cease to amaze me. Never doubt what we’re capable of, with enough time and determination.

I’ve been dealing with a health issue this week. Hopefully it’s nothing concerning, and instead one of the unfortunate but common side effects of perimenopause. I’ll know more soon, after a procedure scheduled for next week. In the meantime, I’m really putting my recent mindfulness studies to the test as I seek to say in the present moment and, when burdensome worries attempt to creep in, allow myself to flow like water between stones.

I’m taking a big leap tomorrow. I’ll share more in the coming weeks, but suffice to say, I’ll be looking fears and concerns squarely in the eyes and befriending them, not slaying them. Physically. More to come (sorry to be so cryptic)!!!

In other news, here’s a smattering of this’s and that’s turning my head lately.

*Last summer, we’d pile onto the couch in the evenings as a family and put on a movie to watch together (no small feat when you’ve got such a medley of ages under one roof as we do). We’re doing it again. First up on this summer’s watch list is Sweet Bean. It tells the story of a 76 year-old woman whose culinary skills help save a failing bakery. Food + Japan + multigenerational actors=my ideal storytelling.

*I’ve been shopping off of ThredUp since its debut in 2009. Yesterday, I purchased my very first item off of Poshmark, a vintage Cheongsam dress (with dragons all over it!). Meanwhile, Huxley used his allowance to get a t-shirt off Depop. Have any online used/NWT/vintage sellers you recommend? I’d love to increase my sphere of virtual used clothing sellers!

*I could eat this prosciutto, zucchini, burrata, artichoke paste, basil, lemony vinaigrette-drizzled, ciabatta-enrobed sandwich from Julius Roberts every day this summer with zero complaints nor regrets.

*Bjork fans, take note! Neotopia Books is hosting a donation-based webinar about the trailblazing and visionary artist July 6th, 7-8:30 CT (so, if you’re like me, that’ll mean an 8 pm start time). I just registered. As described on the site’s Instagram page:

Bjork’s work is both ancient and futuristic, rooted in the natural world while reaching toward something cosmic. By refusing to separate technology from nature, and science from spirituality, she creates music that expands our imagination and challenges our role as humans.

*The fiction of separation with the natural world is pervasive but far from truth: 5 Ideas That Challenge the Way We Think About Nature (psssttt….like I keep saying, it’s all connected).

*Thomas Crowther’s newly published book, Nature’s Echo, is the book I’ve been waiting for. In it, he details ways to harness ancient feedback loops, in very tangible ways, to heal our damaged planet. Here’s how the publisher describes it:

From the birth of galaxies to the revival of forests, the greatest transformations in our universe have been driven by quiet, self-reinforcing processes known as feedback loops. These ancient forces created the universe, they allowed biodiversity to proliferate, they gave rise to climate change, and the idea that we are separate, isolated selves. However, if we can stop resisting them, and begin to work with them, these immense natural forces can become powerful engines for social and ecological regeneration. Nature’s Echo reveals how the mechanisms that shaped our world can also be the ones to revive it.

Drawing on cutting-edge ecological science, ancient philosophy, and gripping personal narrative from the frontlines of global restoration, Nature’s Echo presents the scientific basis for environmental optimism. You’ll discover:

• How feedback loops drove everything from the explosion of life to our own inner suffering.

• Why the illusion of a separate “self” may be the root cause of our environmental crisis.

• How nature can rebound when we relieve the social inequality that degrades it.

• Why the knowledge that we can build a brighter future is a prerequisite for environmental success.

For anyone who feels overwhelmed by the climate crisis and is searching for a path forward, this book replaces despair with grounded hope and conviction. Discover how millions of rural communities are reviving local nature to improve their own livelihoods; how customers are choosing sustainable products that are tipping entire industries into new states; and how efforts to address poverty are driving ecological recovery at massive scales. But most importantly, discover the personal agency that comes from the realization that we are not doomed to a bleak environmental future. Through this journey across the scales of existence, you will realize that we are not passive witnesses to planetary collapse, but active participants in the greatest regenerative opportunity in Earth’s history.

By tapping into ancient feedback loops, we have the power to drive the inner personal healing that can jumpstart massive environmental recovery.

*I’ve been listening to Wildfires by Sault daily. Multiple times, even, if I’m being honest (this is a known trait of mine when I’m reallllllly into a song/artist/group/genre). Learning that it was released as a protest song, on Juneteenth 2020, and today being Juneteenth 2026 seems like serendipity indicating you, too, should go take a listen. Welcome to your new favorite song (do go read the lyrics).

*Got lots of cucumbers? Turn ‘em into my Sweet Pickle Relish, summer’s iconic condiment, easily tucked into all the places and atop all the things.

*We’ve returned to eating out on our patio, which reminded me that it’s nigh time to put together a batch of my Bugs Away insect repellant. Perhaps it’s time for you, as well? While you’re at it, make some of my Boo Boo Goo too, to be best prepared for unavoidable summertime-incurred scrapes and scratches.

*Wednesday of last week, I had the pleasure of attending an improvisational somatic movement/dance workshop held on a basketball court in Montford Park in Asheville, North Carolina. Teacher Coco Villa, in a movement style she created and calls DIDIDADA, led participants through guided instructions, all open to interpretation, for loosening up the body and releasing the mind, and spirit. Participants engaged in both solo, partnered, and group movement. It was pure magic.

Let the weekend commence! I’ve got big plans tomorrow (as mentioned above), and then intend to celebrate my own Pop as well as my children’s Dada on Sunday, alongside the summer solstice. Lots to be grateful for.

Wherever you go, whatever you do, and whomever you do it with, may it be grand!

I’d like to make a case for non-doing. I’m currently reading Jon Kabat-Zinn’s seminal book Wherever You Go, There You Are, and he presents a strong stance on the deep and abiding benefits of non-doing. As he details it:

Non-doing has nothing to do with being indolent or passive. Quite the contrary. It takes great courage and energy to cultivate non-doing, both in stillness and in activity…Non-doing simply means letting things be and allowing them to unfold in their own way. Enormous effort can be involved, but it is a graceful, knowledgeable, effortless effort, a “doorless doing” cultivated over a lifetime.

As it relates to our homes, which is the lens I focus on here, I’d like to advocate for the periodic implementation of “Home Appreciation Pauses" in your living spaces.

During these times of reflection, I invite you to find somewhere in your home where you can be comfortable. This could be your couch, bed, an armchair, sprawled out across a rug on the floor, outside in/on a stoop/rocking/patio/Adirondack chair/hammock (if you have outdoor access)—wherever you find most conducive to stillness and quiet reflection. Have a drink of some sort, if you’re so inclined, and then…do nothing. Simply be.

As you sit, look at what is immediately in view.

Listen attentively to the sounds your home is presenting in that moment.

Sip your beverage, bringing your awareness to your tongue, then to your throat, on down to your belly.

Feel the gentle cradle of whatever is holding you physically as you observe.

Breathe in through your nose, inhaling deeply the fragrance of your home, of you.

Allow your sensory awareness of the home you have created, whether on your own or with loved ones, to draw you into the present moment without judgement. It doesn’t matter if the house is messy, if the yard is unkempt, if the coffee in your cup is cold, if the dog is barking incessantly, if the trash needs to be taken out.

As Kabat-Zinn writes, if thoughts enter, simply counter with “This is it.” This present moment, without judgement, without reproach, without immediately working towards changing any of the aspects you’re currently taking in from a heightened sensory awareness needn’t be a catalyst towards action. Instead, allow it be a guide towards appreciation.

So often, we see not what is in front of us, in this exact moment, never to be repeated. We see instead our perceived shortcomings in our homes, the parts about it we haven’t yet addressed, the areas we’d like to change. But if we can shift towards simply sitting in our spaces of solace without judgement, even if only for a fleeting time, and see the soft edges of our very human existence, we can feel the physical support our homes offer us. The sanctuaries they truly are.

On other occasions, looking around your home with a critical eye towards what you might like to change/alter/address, and with a clear vision of the order of prioritization you’d like to do so, can be similarly assistive. But in this instance, we’re not seeking change. We’re seeking gratitude. Appreciation for what is in this very moment.

Be here now. In your home. In your body. Be somewhere else later. Because, truly, the here and now is all we know to be true.

Welcome to Making A Home, a monthly collection of suggestions for home care.

June in the home is a month of gentle transitions. It begins with a steady trot, moves to a canter, and is off at a full gallop by its end (seeing as this is the Year of the Fire Horse, I figured equine metaphors were apropos). Enjoy that building crescendo, readying yourself and your living quarters as the month steadily gains momentum.

This month will see you equally indoors and out. The cool mornings will draw you out, as will the prospect of sprinklers, pools, creeks, rivers, lakes, and oceans. Nighttime you’ll want to gather around fire pits and firefly/star/moon/meteor-gaze. Thunderstorms, the return of biting and stinging insects, and, as the month passes, heat and humidity will pull you back indoors. The zodiac sign of Gemini makes up the bulk of June. As the sign most representative of contrast, difference, and duality, allow yourself to feel and enjoy it all.

Be sure to remain hydrated, wherever you are. While water is good, hydrating foods are ideal. Consume ample watermelon and other melons, tomatoes, berries, cucumbers, celery, coconut water, and electrolyte beverages to stay hydrated and maintain an electrolyte balance (important for heart and brain function).

Let’s see what TLC our homes could benefit from this month!

Per usual, a disclaimer: Take these suggestions or leave them. Your house is YOUR house. Do in it whatever you will, in whatever manner suits you and yours best.

June Indoors:

*On dry days, open the windows and let fresh air aerate your home. Doing so moves out dust and dander that may have accumulated, especially if you have pets. It also helps to move out stale, stagnant aromas that have settled in. Do this as often as you’re comfortable doing before the humidity and moisture of summer truly settle in.

*This time of year begins the march of a steady stream of insects attempting to get indoors. I sprinkle peppermint essential oil anywhere ants travel, as they don’t like it. Make sure to keep pantry dry goods tightly sealed, as all manner of pests will otherwise infiltrate them (this also helps keep items like crackers, chips, and baked goods crisp and crunchy longer). Salt and sugar are both hygroscopic, meaning they pull moisture towards them, so be sure your sugar bowl and salt cellars are tightly sealed, as well. Don’t leave dirty dishes to linger in rooms, as they’re a guaranteed siren song for bugs.

*Change out/clean the filters of your furnace or HVAC system. Even if you’re not yet using your AC, you will be soon and it’s good to have it primed and ready to go.

*If you use AC window units, get them out of storage and install them securely.

*Clean out the microwave.

*Scrub all metal sinks with a scouring cleaner and pad.

*Check grout in shower/tub for mold/mildew and clean as necessary.

*Test CO2 and smoke detectors.

*If you have a garbage disposal, clean it.

*If you have a septic system, drop a septic pod into one toilet in the house at bedtime (we’re fond of these Green Gobbler Septic Saver Pods).

*Clean the fan or covers on your range hood.

*Wipe down door knobs and toilet handles regularly.

*Wipe down light switch plates.

*Clean the washing machine, and, for those with front-loading washers, clean the drain pump and filter.

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Early June is gentle, a soft muse. It’s a pause, an inflection point, before the intensity of summer’s swelter and ferocity comes into full play post-solstice. It’s daises, and daylilies. It’s weddings and graduations. It’s watermelon and peaches. It’s the dawn chorus. It’s morning mist and rolling thunderstorms.

June is for the body. You smell it. You taste it. You see it. You hear it. You feel it. June reminds you that you are alive. That you’re more than a thinking creature, motivated by thought alone, but one in a very tangible, corporeal, emotional home.

June tenderly calls you back to yourself. It’s for porch hangs. For creek dips. For firefly watching. For late night movies and early morning stretching. For softly treading into the fullness of life.

Time to examine some of the botanical and celestial elements associated with this new month!

(Rose image from here; honeysuckle image from here).

June’s Flowers: Rose and Honeysuckle

Rose is one of the most beloved and globally showcased flowers. It has long held an association with beauty, love, and devotion. Depending on how they’re classified, there are between 300 to 350 Rosa species, with a staggering 10,000+ individual types.

Estimated to have evolved 32 to 33 million years ago, wild roses can be readily found throughout North America, Europe, and across Asia. Appearing over a far-reaching variety of guises, roses come as shrubs or bushes, and climbing or trailing vines, as well as in dwarf and miniature varieties.

Rose is as well known for its decorative, fragrant use as it is for its culinary, cosmetic, and therapeutic applications. From rosewater incorporated into foods, to the same item used in facial toners and mists, and from perfumes to drops used to ease grief, the rose does it all.

Come the month of June, showing up in tandem with roses is honeysuckle. Beloved by bees and hummingbirds, honeysuckle is the flower of joy and delight, its fragrance immediately evocative of wild, feral spaces untamed by human interference. When I encounter honeysuckle, I feel I’ve truly entered the more-than-human world.

The word itself is derived from the Middle English word “honeysouke”, literally “honey suck.” This is believed to be a reference to the ability to suck the nectar straight from the flowers tubular blooms. Varietals of the plant can be found across parts of Asia, including China, Japan, and India, as well as throughout Europe and North America.

Spiritually, honeysuckle has long been believed to offer protection from negativity and malevolent forces. Planting one near the home has been associated with ushering in happiness and joy while warding off unwelcome energies.

(Hawthorn image from here and Oak image from here).

June’s Trees: Hawthorn (May 13-June 9) and Oak (June 10-July 7)

The Celtic tree calendar is based on lunar months, of which there are 13 in a year. Each of those months is associated with a tree representing a particular energy that can serve as a sort of guide, both for those born in that lunar month and for those seeking instruction and guidance for the month ahead.

The tree for the second portion of May (following the Celtic calendar mentioned above) is the Hawthorn, while the tree for the second third of June into early July is the Oak.

I wrote at length last month about hawthorn, as it was May’s featured herb (it’s both a tree and considered an herb in the therapeutic use of its berries). The tree is highly revered and considered to possess magical and transformative properties. Medicinally, it is esteemed for its well documented applications in cardiac concerns.

Considered to be the “king of the forest” by the Druids, oak trees are associated with longevity, strength, fertility, durability, and purpose. Those born in this lunar moon cycle are believed to be helpful, resilient, and generous, and walk through their lives as natural leaders.

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Happy Friday, friends. You’re here, you made it.

This very moment, my husband, Glenn, is picking up our elder son, Huxley, who just completed his last day of 9th grade. Meanwhile, we attended the 3rd grade awards ceremony for his younger brother, Alistair, earlier this morning. His last day of school comes on Wednesday. Next up, 4th and 10th grade for our Englishmen.

Time is an absolute illusion. We’re all just passing through. Spirit made flesh. Here for a blink. Enjoy the ride while it’s in motion!

In other news, let’s explore what caught my attention online recently!

*I’ve started a daily tarot practice, something I’ve intended to do for some time now. Really enjoying the deck from The Wild Unknown. Any time-honored tarot advice is actively welcomed. Feel free to share your divination thoughts below.

*For me, warmer weather equals rosé time. This highly affordable French offering available at Trader Joe’s checks all of my boxes. Smooth, crisp, redolent of berries. Get it while you can!

*Warmer weather might mean rosé to me, but it means popsicles and watermelon to my sons. Make my Watermelon Lime pops or my Roasted Peaches and Cream pops (or guild the lily and make both!) to adopt their state of mind.

*Sleep issues plaguing you? Allow me to help. I slather this DIY sleep salve on every night, and can attest to its soporific effects. Got a bedtime tea for you, too!

*Yesterday morning, I gathered with a group of (as yet!) strangers and one friend (hi Cat!) to sip freshly brewed wild tea in silence, stretch, meditate, journal, and bask in the gentle, quiet comfort of being in community with others. Host Shunyu Huang regularly offers a variety of classes and workshops at her WuYong Culture Space in nearby Marshall that you’ll absolutely want to make yourself aware of.

*Glenn’s birthday was Sunday, and we headed down the mountain to SC last Sunday with friends and family to celebrate. First stop was Book Warehouse Outlet in Easley. Held the last weekend of each month, this staggeringly colossal space sells new books in every imaginable genre at 70% off retail. The deals you can get, friends! Bring a bag/shopping cart/trolley/backpack, something to hydrate with, and, during warmer months, a fan, as it can get quite warm indoors. Also, bring a sense of adventure and a hearty dose of patience. My hyper organizationally-minded brain was challenged by the disorganization of the place. While there are discrete sections devoted to exclusive topics (cookbooks, travel, coffee table books, fiction, gardening, etc), there were also numerous areas where you’ll find books about air fryers, next to books on your cat’s astrology, next to books on plant care, next to books about Woody Guthrie. To thrive in such an environment, you’ve got to change your mindset about what “order” really means. Embrace a whole new reality (telling this all to myself in advance so that I can be conditioned and primed for maximum chillness the next time I go). It’s totally worth the pilgrimage, wherever you’re located!

*After reading Into the Magic Shop (included in a recent WID round up), I’ve been desirous to learn more about developing a mindfulness practice of my own. One of the books I scored at the aforementioned Book Warehouse Outlet was the 30th anniversary edition of Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Wherever You Go, There You Are. One of the original proponents and teachers of mindfulness as a named concept and practice in the west, Kabat-Zinn originally published the book in 1994. The universe keeps sending me the gentlest of signs that I’m supposed to read this book (including on this very day, where a message entitled “Wherever You Go, There You Are” came across my Instagram feed in a new account I started following this morning). Yep. Leaning in, listening with both ears.

*Glenn and I celebrated our 19th wedding anniversary on Tuesday. Best last first date I ever went on took place January 1st, 2007, with “I do’s” five months later, on June 2, 2007. Found this cover of “Simply The Best.” This song always makes me think of him. PS: it’s likely to bring you to tears (consider yourself forewarned).

*Are we all just avatars in a VR game? This cognitive scientist at UC-Irvine thinks so (and I gotta say, he makes a pretty good case!).

*In my next life, I’d like to be an eagle hunter of Mongolia. Better yet, one of the eagles.

Attending an art opening this evening, and a “Lady Dinner” charcuterie-and-dancing house party tomorrow. Summer might still be a few weeks out on the calendar, but it has most certainly arrived in the Cove.

Wherever you go this weekend, whatever you do, and whomever you do it with, may it be grand!

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Happy Sunday, friends. You’re here. You made it.

Anyone else been swimming in the murky depths of emotion this week? Just me?

I’m a sensitive, heart-driven person by nature (I am a Cancer, after all), the sort who cries at commercials, compliments strangers, and will have a true conversation of bottom-of-the-ocean sincerity with you right there in the check out line at the grocery store (it’s my preferred means of communicating, down in the depths, if I’m being honest). And yet even I have felt a greater force of emotional intensity this past week. The kind that commands and demands attention. The kind you can’t simply think your way past or out of.

Perhaps it’s perimenopause, perhaps it’s the creep towards next week’s blue moon, who’s to say (I should just embrace that as a credo—maybe it’s perimenopause, maybe it’s the moon!). Whatever it is, I’ve been swimming in it. Underwater at times, treading water at others. Today? Today I’m on the shore, watching the tide ebb and flow with a mug of hot tea.

In other news, let’s explore what caught my attention online recently!

*While reading an article on author/former therapist/artist Philippa Perry in this month’s issue of The Simple Things, she mentioned a YouTube series called Little Chinese Everywhere. The show’s presenter travels to remote places in China, drawing attention to rural communities, traditions, foods, occupations, and more. I watched my first episode yesterday, about a village set high in a mountainous region where all villagers are involved in some capacity with growing/processing/selling tea. Immediate and forever fan.

*Speaking of TSL, their recipe for Spring Beans on Toast is speaking to me. If you can’t find broad beans (hard to source here in the US), consider large or baby limas, or even fava beans.

*Finally getting around to Reading Still Life With Woodpecker. It’s not for everyone, and it took me literal years to come around to reading it, but now that I’m committed, it’s checking all my boxes. Side note: it was while reading another Tom Robbins novel on my honeymoon (19 years ago next month!), Jitterbug Perfume, that I chose the name Huxley for any children we may one day have, based on a character in the book who has a precocious, direct relationship with the natural world.

*I was reminded recently of how, several years ago, during the rehearsal dinner for the wedding of my middle sister, Devan, a guest inquired about my all-time favorite movie. Without hesitation, I said Harold and Maude, My Dinner With Andre a close second. These two films, in the most profound and enduring way, informed the trajectory of my life after viewing them as a teen. If you haven’t seen them, I’d get on it, post haste. Side note: though brother and sister, our cats of 13 years are named Harold and Maude.

*There’s something living in fog (for those of you who long sensed this, the validation you deserve).

*Been on a yuzu kick lately, and intend to grab a bar of this the next time I’m down in South Asheville, near World Market.

*I have been reading the Hua Hu Ching, also referred to as The Unknown Teachings of Lao Tzu, author of the Tao te Ching, one of the most widely translated and beloved books worldwide. As described in the book’s introduction:

The teachings of the Hua Hu Ching are of enormous power and consequence, a literal road map to the divine realm for ordinary human beings. Perhaps predictably, the book was banned during a period of political discord in China, and all copies were ordered to be burned. Were it not for the Taoist tradition of oral transmission of sacred scriptures from master to student, they would have been lost forever.

The book is arranged into 81 teachings, or lessons. I have a hardback copy beside my bed, and refer to it from time to time. I’m up to teaching Thirty-two so far, and while I’m gaining so much from them all, my favorite at this point was actually the second (Two):

Men and women who wish to be aware of the whole truth should adopt the practices of the Integral Way. These time-honored disciplines calm the mind and bring one into harmony with all things. The first practice is the practice of undiscriminating virtue: take care of those who are deserving; also, and equally, take care of those who are not. When you extend your virtue in all directions without discriminating, your feet are firmly planted on the path that returns to the Tao.

*Western NC folks, did you know we have a fashion library? At The Closetorium, you can check out, wear, and return garments and accessories. Your look, your budget, and the environment all win.

*Rhubarb is ripe for the picking. Consider these two savory recipes to take the veggie-treated-like-a-fruit beyond the pies and jams zone.

Memorial Day is tomorrow and the kids are both off school. The weather looks pretty variable at the moment. If it’s nice, I’d love to take us all up to the Blue Ridge Parkway for an invigorating hike and picnic. If it’s rainy (equally nice, in my opinion), The Mandalorian and Grogu is one film my family of a 58, 49, 15, and 9 year-old could all get behind.

Wherever you go, whatever you do, and whomever you do it with, may it be grand!

Strawberry season is upon us. While these days it’s certainly possible to have access to the fruits year round, shipped in from any manner of global locations, there is unrivaled flavor and juicy delight to be found in eating strawberries when they’re in season near you.

The Western North Carolina Farmer’s Market, run by the NC Department of Agriculture, has had pints, quarts, and buckets of strawberries available for purchase. Admittedly, many of them are coming from places down-mountain, primarily South Carolina. We’re close enough to that area, though, that the berries can be picked ripe and driven to us here in the Blue Ridge mountains within hours.

That first strawberry of the season leaves an enduring impression. Our most lasting and emotional memories are those tied to scent. The ambrosial fragrance of strawberries, partnered with their sweet, gently tart flavor, tiny seed flecks skimming our fingertips, ruby hue, and squishy, watery bite all but guarantee they’ll be remembered fondly, long after the berry patches have been gleaned and the market no longer showcases their splendor.

While they’re around, though, put them to good use! After you’ve had your fill of gorging on fresh berries, and have baked them into crisps, crumbles, and pies, there are still myriad ways to capture their joy for later use. Below, I’m sharing my recipes for Strawberry Jam, Strawberry Infused Vinegar, Strawberry Sauce, Quick Pickled Strawberries, and Frozen Strawberries.

A bit of heady-scented time in the kitchen and you’ll emerge with sweet and/or savory strawberry preserves guaranteed to delight. Let’s get started!

Strawberry Jam

Makes: 3-4 half-pints.

You Will Need:

4 pints or 2 pounds strawberries, hulled and sliced

2 cups sugar

2 tablespoons lemon juice

Optional flavor additions: fresh mint, fresh basil, fresh sage, fresh lemon verbena, fresh lemon balm, rose water, ground cinnamon, freshly grated nutmeg, ground allspice, ground cardamom, orange zest, orange liqueur, elderflower liqueur; use 2 tablespoons minced fresh herbs, 1 teaspoon extracts/flower waters/liqueurs, or 1 teaspoon ground spices.

To Prepare:

1. Place two small plates in the freezer. These will be used later to test for gelling.

2. In a large nonmetallic bowl, add the strawberries, sugar, and lemon juice; stir, cover loosely with a kitchen cloth, and set aside to macerate at room temperature for 2 hours.

3. Place your canning jars into the canning pot, either by putting them into the canning rack and lowering the rack down, or by simply placing the jars onto a metal cake cooling rack or silicone trivet at the bottom of the pot.

4. Fill the pot and jars with enough water to fill the jars, plus 2-3 inches above them. Cover the pot and set over high heat.

5. While the water in the canner heats, transfer the prepped strawberry mixture to a medium stainless-steel saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat and boil for 20 to 25 minutes, until the mixture begins to thicken. Strawberries are lower in pectin than other types of berries, so they’ll take longer to gel or “set.” Keep stirring and boiling, and you’ll get there.

6. Stir frequently and watch the pot carefully to prevent the contents from boiling over. Skim off any foam that rises to the top.

7. Test for gelling. Remove a plate from the freezer and spoon about 1 teaspoon of jam onto it. Place the plate back in the freezer and wait 2 minutes. Remove from the freezer and push the edge of the jam with your fingertip. If the jam has gelled properly, the surface will wrinkle a bit. If it fails to wrinkle, or is obviously still runny, boil the jam for several minutes longer, and the repeat the gel test.

8. If using any optional flavoring ingredients, stir them in once the jam has properly set.

9. Remove the hot, sterilized jars from the canner, emptying most of the water back into the pot. With the help of a jar lifter or tongs, place the hot jars on top of a kitchen cloth on the counter.

10. Using a canning funnel, ladle the jam into the jars, reserving 1/4-inch headspace. Use a non-metallic spatula or wooden chopstick to remove any trapped air bubbles from around the interior circumference of the jars, and then wipe the rims clean with a damp cloth. Place on the lids and screw bands, tightening only until fingertip-tight.

11. Again using a jar lifter or the handles on the canning rack, place the filled jars into the canner. Process for 10 minutes, starting your timer only once the water is at a full, rolling boil. Adjust for altitude as necessary.

12. Carefully remove the jars from the canner, using either the canning rack handles or a jar lifter. Set the hot jars onto a dry kitchen cloth. Listen for the jars to seal, remove the screw bands and dry and store them, and then leave the jars to cool on the kitchen counter until fully at room temperature. Wipe the rims of the jars with a damp cloth once fully cooled.

13. Label and store in a cool, dry area, such as a pantry or cabinet. Consume ideally within 1 year.

Strawberry Infused Vinegar

Makes: About 2 cups.

You Will Need:

3 cups strawberries, washed, hulled, and sliced to about 1/4-inch thickness

1 1/2 cup rice vinegar, white wine vinegar, or white balsamic vinegar

3 teaspoons sugar

To Prepare:

1. Place the strawberries into a glass jar to which a lid can be affixed, such as a Mason or other style canning jar.

2. Warm the vinegar and sugar in a small saucepan. Stir to dissolve the sugar. Remove from the heat right as the mixture begins to boil.

3. Place a canning funnel (if available) over the jar’s opening, and pour the brine over the strawberries. Use a non-metallic utensil, such as a mixing spoon or wooden chopstick, to stir the brine around the strawberries.

4. Set aside to cool to room temperature, and then affix a lid over the jar.

5. Leave to infuse in a cool, dark location, such as a pantry or kitchen cabinet, for 3 days. Taste the vinegar, and see if the flavor is to your liking. Infuse for 1-2 additional days, if desired.

6. Once you’re happy with the flavor, strain the mixture using either a fine mesh sieve, finely woven cheesecloth, or a coffee filter. Compost the solids.

7. Transfer the vinegar to a glass vessel with a lid, such as a flip top jar or wine bottle with a cork.

8. Label, and store in the pantry, or other cool, dry area. Aim to use within 1 year.

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Welcome to Making A Home, a monthly collection of suggestions for home care.

The month of May is one of the most temperate of them all. It’s (generally speaking) not dropping buckets of rain. It’s not terribly gusty. The biting and stinging bugs aren’t out yet in force. There might be early fireflies for nighttime viewing. Stargazing is pleasant, made cozy with a blanket wrapped around the shoulders.

It’s a time of contentment, of stability. Of groundedness. Of enjoying life’s little luxuries. A new scented candle or bundle of incense to speak to the scent and feel of the season at hand. A wind chime stationed directly outside your kitchen door. A bird or hummingbird feeder placed right where you’ll be able to catch fleeting glances.

Small treasures often reap more enduring rewards and pleasures, I’ve found.

May is your steadfast and stalwart friend. The one with whom you always know where you stand. The one who invites ease.

Let’s see what TLC our homes could benefit from this month!

Per usual, a disclaimer: Take these suggestions or leave them. Your house is YOUR house. Do in it whatever you will, in whatever manner suits you and yours best.

May Indoors:

*Depending on where you live, it may be time to turn on fans. Overhead fans, attic fans, oscillating fans-all the fans. Wipe down fan blades, and ensure overhead fans are operating in the direction that pulls hot air upwards (this scenario reverses itself during cooler weather, when fans rotate to pull warm air that has risen down into the room).

*Take rugs outside on a sunny, dry day and beat them with a broom. Alternately, depending on size (and budget and access to professionals), take them in to a carpet/rug cleaning business, or have them visit your home. If your area rugs are washable, give them a gentle washing per instructions.

*Clean out the microwave.

*Scrub all metal sinks with a scouring cleaner and pad.

*Wipe down all mirrors and art/photos with glass frames.

*Test CO2 and smoke detectors.

*Wipe down kitchen cabinet doors and knobs.

*If you have a garbage disposal, clean it.

*If you have a septic system, drop a septic pod into one toilet in the house at bedtime (we’re fond of these Green Gobbler Septic Saver Pods).

*Clean the fan or covers on your range hood.

*Wipe down door knobs and toilet handles regularly.

*Wipe down light switch plates.

*Clean the washing machine, and, for those with front-loading washers, clean the drain pump and filter.

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This is a month of seduction. The air is neither too gusty nor too still, neither too warm nor too frigid. The scent is riddled with wild rose, freshly cut grass, and honeysuckle. The dawn chorus of birdsong grows more diverse daily. The landscape is laden with visual delights including irises, azaleas, peonies, and lilacs. The strawberries are yielding and juicy. Our bodies are primed and ready, all senses fully engaged.

It’s no coincidence that new life is so profuse and abundant in May. The climatic conditions are fully ripe for it. There is rain and sunlight, food from the heavens, giving the soil, flora, and fauna precisely what they need to thrive, to expand, to exist at all. Together, in a dance characterized by balance (light/dark, hot/cold, expansive/contractive, wet/dry, exposure/shadow, still/active), life on Earth comes to be, cycles through, and returns to the soil, to begin anew.

What a gift the month of May is. It is the containment of all things inside of everything else. It is the physical manifestation that all concepts, creations, and conditions exist in relation to each other. Of the necessity, desire, and urgency of life to move in an unending circle, never in a line.

Time to examine some of the botanical and celestial elements associated with this new month!

(Lily of the Valley image from here).

May’s Flower: Lily of the Valley

Tender, delicate, and possessed of rhapsodically fragrant bell-shaped blooms, Lily of the Valley is about as ephemeral of a flower as they come. The mythology around the flower states it became enamored with the song of the nightingale, and waited to bloom only when the bird returned annually to the forests and woods in the month May.

In floriography, the language of meanings associated to various flowers, Lily of the Valley is linked to humility, innocence and purity, and a return to a sense of happiness. It is also purported to soothe heartache and is linked to the fairy realm.

Native to Eurasia, the plant prefers a partial to fully-shaded environment, often found in the fertile, lush soil of wooded areas. Lily of the Valley have been in cultivation for centuries, grown for their fragrance as well as their ornamental and medicinal uses (all parts of the plant are considered toxic and should only be utilized for internal use under the care and guidance of a medical professional).

(Willow image from here).

May’s Tree: Willow (April 15 -May 12)

The Celtic tree calendar is based on lunar months, of which there are 13 in a year. Each of those months is associated with a tree representing a particular energy that can serve as a sort of guide, both for those born in that lunar month and for those seeking instruction and guidance for the month ahead.

The tree for the first portion of May (following the Celtic calendar mentioned above) is the Willow. These trees are associated with fertility, healing, resilience, and growth on account of its ability to thrive in harsh environments and to regrow from a broken branch. Willows are also associated with both sorrow and hope, owing to their graceful stoop and sway, and have accordingly long been depicted in artful renderings and scenes.

The bark of willow trees has a long history of medicinal use. In fact, the active constituents in white willow bark are the precursors to modern day aspirin! In craft applications, they’re used to fashion baskets, containment/fencing structures, and even climbing plant supports.

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Happy Friday, friends. You’re here. You made it.

My little sister, Theo, is getting married tomorrow. Family and friends are on their way here to the mountains from locations both near and far. It’s a wild thing to see your youngest sibling take such an adult step. We’re 14 years apart. We have the same father, but different mothers, and it just so happened that my older brother and I had flown down to Florida on spring break back in ‘91 when my stepmom went into labor. And now this tiny baby is signing documents, exchanging vows, and putting on rings. What a world.

My middle sister and I are the maids of honor, and one of my longtime friends is the officiant, so this weekend will be a busy one. There’s a rehearsal dinner tonight, the wedding tomorrow, and then a brunch on Sunday, Mother’s Day. Much to do, much to celebrate.

With that in mind, let’s tuck right in to the round-up, shall we?

*After discovering the book Into the Magic Shop is what inspired the BTS song Magic Shop (which just so happened to be the surprise/secret/randomly selected song chosen when I saw them April 25 in Tampa), and looking into its subject matter, I knew I needed to read it. Part memoir, part manual for discovery and meditative practice, the book shares the story of neurosurgeon James Doty and his encounter with a woman named Ruth in a magic shop who changed the entire trajectory of his life. I’m about 60 pages in, and am already wholly consumed by the narrative and subject matter:

Growing up in the high desert of California, Jim Doty was poor, with an alcoholic father and a mother chronically depressed and paralyzed by a stroke. Today he is the director of the Center for Compassion and Altruism Research and Education (CCARE) at Stanford University, of which the Dalai Lama is a founding benefactor. But back then his life was at a dead end until at twelve he wandered into a magic shop looking for a plastic thumb. Instead he met Ruth, a woman who taught him a series of exercises to ease his own suffering and manifest his greatest desires. Her final mandate was that he keep his heart open and teach these techniques to others. She gave him his first glimpse of the unique relationship between the brain and the heart.

*I’ve also been looking into Earth’s relationship with the moon, and how it affects human and non-human behavior alike. I picked up a used copy of Rebecca Boyle’s book Our Moon: How Earth’s Celestial Companion Transformed the Planet, Guided Evolution, and Made Us Who We Are to deepen my awareness and understanding of this intwined, interconnected partnership we’re in with our perennial celestial companion.

*If you live in an area where ramps are grown or foraged, it’s their time to shine. Here are several ways I preserve the harvest of these pungent, highly aromatic woodland alliums.

*Every autumn, I head to an old grove of hawthorns found around Craggy Gardens on the Blue Ridge Parkway. I harvest those that have fallen from the trees, and render them into hawthorn tincture, a remedy long used for cardiac support (heart issues run in the maternal side of my family). Yesterday, I found this sparkling hawthorn drink at a local Asian foods store. It’s tart but balanced gently with a bit of sweetness. Reminiscent of cranberry juice but with a floral note below. I’ll definitely try making it once its hawthorn-harvesting time again.

*This past Friday, just before sunset, Glenn and I went out for drinks and mountain views at Wildwood Still (I had the Pardon My French and haven’t stopped thinking about it) before crossing the street to catch the opening of three new exhibits at Blue Spiral 1 gallery. Opened in 1990, Blue Spiral has been an integral part of the art scene in Asheville since its inception, and can be credited in many ways with Asheville’s revitalization in the ensuing years. Covering 3 floors, with around 25 exhibits annually, I highly recommend stopping by to browse. It’s open to the public and free to view. Go with a friend. Go with your partner. Go by yourself. Go with a contemplative mind and an open heart. You’ll no doubt come away changed.

*Spring allergies getting to you? They are me and mine! Here’s a link to make my nettle infusion and tincture. Don’t suffer in silence, let the plants help see you through.

*Fan of loud cackling (that you’ll be doing) and irreverent humor? Then this British reality tv show wherein 10 ace comics try to get each other to laugh is for you. When I was down in Florida two weeks ago to see BTS, I stayed with my middle sister, Devan, and her husband, Mark (who is Scottish). They introduced me to Last One Laughing and it is, with zero hyperbole, amongst the funniest comedy shows I’ve had the pleasure of gasping for air to.

*Need something to put on while you’re cleaning the house/driving/writing a Substack/living your life? Might I suggest Memorabilia? A very good background track to groove/take a mental carpet ride/decompress to, imho.

*Black licorice is the best licorice. One of the best candies in the world, honestly. I know this is a strong statement, and I stand by it. If you feel the same way, I invite you to treat yourself to this Dutch honey-infused version. It’s gluten- and gelatin-free, as well, for those for whom such considerations are significant.

Alright, I’m off to get ready for the day/weekend. So many people to see, places to go, things to do! Good things are afoot.

Wherever you go this weekend, whatever you do, and whomever you do it with, may it be grand!

When I was 8 years old, my mother (never one to forgo the opportunity to engage in a highly dramatic gesture), took all of her vinyl albums and burned them in an oil drum in the backyard. She had recently converted to Evangelical Christianity, and whether instructed to do so or owing to some personal urge, all the secular music in our home was melted into oblivion.

Out with Rod Stewart, Michael Jackson, The Eagles, Neil Diamond, The BeeGees, Barbara Streisand, and Christopher Cross, and in with Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith, and Dino. This musical purge brought with it a tandem loss of joy. Of unabashed happiness. Of revelry. In its place came a call to devotion to God alone. To an absolution of the self. To a recognition of our inherent shortcomings and transgressions as humans.

It also brought a profound shift in dancing. My mother used to dance like it fueled her very heartbeat. Glass of chablis in one hand, Virginia Slim in the other, she lived to dance, at home and at various beachfront clubs in Virginia Beach, Virginia. She even met my dad out dancing, at a Naval Officers Club while he was stationed there. After the albums went into the fire, all of that zesty, ecstatic, evocative dancing completely stopped.

I hated it all in a way that’s challenging to express. Music isn’t just something I listen to. It’s something I merge with. As with morsels of food that, once consumed, become part and parcel of our very mortal bodies, music has always elicited in me an experience of melding, of transmogrification. What I listened to, I became.

The first time I heard Vangelis’ Chariots of Fire, I was with my father. I spontaneously began to weep. I was 5 years old. On the cusp of 50, this hasn’t changed. Whether a sound compels me to cry, or dance, or go on a mental carpet ride, I cannot imagine its absence, especially not in my home.

Years ago, I read an interview with the actor Jason Schwartzman that forever changed me. He shared how his mother, the actress Talia Shire (she of Godfather and Rocky fame), always had books open all over their home, and films showing on the tv, and music playing in the background. Things to learn about, things to view, and things to hear. His mother created a home environment rife with opportunities for cultivating creativity. For engaging with the mind and the body.

There is music playing at most times in our home. Neglecting the sense of sound when we put so much effort into curating an environment that looks, smells, feels, and tastes comforting and compelling would be a joy denied. Whether for one’s personal enjoyment, or experienced during parties or gatherings, music presents opportunities to feel. Calm, exuberant, wistful, enraged, awed—music acknowledges the necessity of emotion in our human bodies. Those feelings need places to go, to be experienced, and to then be released.

I have music playing as I type this. Bluetoothed with my phone, transmitting out through a wireless sound bar in the kitchen, tuned to the Orbital channel on Pandora. These days, there’s admittedly typically a steady stream of K-pop going (the heart wants what the heart wants). Depending on what I’m doing, the time of day, and, oftentimes, the weather, I’ll put on something soothing, or contemplative, or invigorating, or gritty. Music contains multitudes, as do we.

I realize that different living arrangements invite different needs and scenarios for playing music audibly, as opposed to exclusively in-ear. That said, sound moving through space in a home environment imbues a sensation within a contained area that is hard to otherwise experience. It imprints on the inhabitants and the very soul of the place itself. Allow it to move through you, and become part of you and your dwelling.

Tell me about the sound of your home. What does it say about the folks who reside there? What and who are you filling the airwaves of your most private space with?

Happy Friday, friends. You’re here. You made it.

A few hours ago, we took steps here in the cove towards actualizing something we’ve talked about doing for years. We had a dumpster delivered, placed in front of the building beside our house, the one we use as a wood shop/lawn equipment storage spot/hot mess.

For years, we’ve talked about cleaning it out and putting a gym in part of it. Given my lifelong interest in dance, newly reemerged outwardly by taking hiphop dance lessons, Glenn had the brilliant (and exceedingly generous, per his usual MO) idea to relocate his wood shop, currently in the largest part of the building, to a smaller area. Doing so, he reasoned, would allow us to have both a gym for the entire family, as well as a dance studio for me.

This man of mine. I’m so lucky, I know.

I have been choreographing dance routines in my head since I was around 12 years old. Then I clubbed and raved hard in my 20s. After that, I did loads of at home DVD yoga/cardio workouts. However, since moving out to the woods when I turned 30 and placing my emphasis on career and family, I’ve unknowingly neglected to move my body as much as I once did.

I’m naturally flexible, and have high energy. So I’m always moving. But I haven’t been moving in any sort of deliberate, or mindful, or consistent, or, best of all, cathartic way in years.

My breast cancer diagnosis last year, coupled with two highly intimate surgeries/procedures on my uterus this November and January, have changed my entire emphasis around doing so.

This Fire Horse year has ignited in me a deep, abiding, urgent need to move into, with purpose, the things I’ve long loved but neglected, whether by choice or by circumstance. Movement, dance, ecstatic, unbridled expression—it’s coming back. And it’s coming home, literally.

In other news, on to the round up!

*Over Easter/Alistair’s birthday and again last weekend, for an Afternoon Tea Bridal Shower I hosted here for my younger sister, Theo, I served an herbal tea that everyone loved. Tazo’s Passion tea can be easily made into a pitcher batch to serve all spring and summer long. I steeped 8 bags in 8 cups of water and mixed it with 1 cup of sugar. You could easily use 16 bags, a bit more sugar, and then save it as a concentrate in the fridge, topping up with cold water at serving time. We have been drinking this tea for more years than I can count. Huxley used to simply call it “red tea” when he was a wee lad. Not only is it delicious, it’s high in Vitamin C, owing to the hibiscus. Keeps you healthy while quenching your thirst? Count me in.

*We all piled onto the couch last Saturday night and watched the Netflix whodunnit The Woman In Cabin 10. I will gladly watch Keira Knightly in just about anything, and she doesn’t disappoint here (though, admittedly, reviews are mixed). At the end of the film, just as the credits begin rolling, We Were Just Here by Just Mustard begins playing, and when I tell you I’ve had this song on repeat all week since then, I’m not being hyperbolic in the least.

*At the Afternoon Tea Bridal Shower mentioned above, I served cucumber tea sandwiches. My friend Sabrina had brought these same sandwiches to two other afternoon teas I’ve hosted here, and I asked if she’d share the recipe. With fresh dill and chives blended with cream cheese and a bit of mayonnaise, these are arguably the best cucumber sandwiches I’ve ever had. Serious upcoming contender for sandwich of the summer.

*We’re ready to create a moon garden here in the cove, and this article from Garden and Gun offers all the proper instruction and inspiring suggestions.

*I don’t always love to eat vegetables fresh. Sure, sometimes I’ll crave the exquisite flavor provided by a ripe heirloom tomato on a sweltering summer day. And I do love a good arugula or Ceasar salad. But generally speaking, I don't really crave eating vegetables in their raw state. What I do crave, though, are pickles. Pickled foods, with their pungent twang, enliven my tastebuds, stimulate my digestion, and activate my very soul (okay, a bit of melodrama for that last one, but you get the point). Karen Solomon’s book Asian Pickles came out over a decade ago and covers the spectrum of pickled Asian flavors with history, helpful info, and recipe after delightful recipe.

*Like I mentioned at the beginning, going to raves used to be an important part of my life. Lately, I’ve found myself missing them. Turns out I’m not alone. This article shows the science behind why women ages 40 and up are turning to raves for mental health support.

*Viktor Orban, the far-right leader of Hungary who has been in power there for the past 16 years, and who played an outsized role in shaping the polices and outlooks of the current US administration, lost his reelection bid this past weekend. GLORY BE! This article from the Carnegie Endowment For International Peace on the topic is pretty illuminating for considerations around the future of global politics.

*We regularly burn incense in our home. I’ve been doing so since my teen years. For decades now, I have adored the fragrance and quality offered by Shoyeido. Made in Kyoto, Japan, this incense has been carried at nearly every natural foods store in the US I’ve visited for decades, and for good reason. Their Daily Incense collection is such a delight, with Kyonishiki a personal favorite (burned some this morning!).

That’s all for now! One son has an annual well-child appointment with our family doctor after school, while the other has new glasses ready to be picked up from the optometrist. Tomorrow afternoon, I’m joining my friend Lucky at a local movie theater to watch the live showing of the Arirang tour from BTS in Tokyo. These 7 fellas were strangers to me 4 weeks ago, now I know their birth months and can recognize them by their voices (ditto for Stray Kids, though that started back in September, and I can recognize them by their teeth and lips these days, lol!). I’m down bad for these groups, not just for their talents, but for their ability to live their passions and inspire vast amounts of people the world over to do the same.

Wherever you go this weekend, whatever you do, and whomever you do it with, may it be grand!

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