My family celebrates the holidays in small ways: I bake “Dad’s white fruit cake,” a tradition from my childhood and reminder of our Grandma Burgess, to my brothers and sisters; we find a local Christmas tree for the house, which I trim with ornaments purchased or made throughout the years, remembering each one with little …
Another transition in process: the stability of home eludes me as we move from place to place. Our home in Boulder is meant as secondary but its lure is powerful: the brisk mountain air, the solitude, the quiet, the gathering place for family at holidays. Meanwhile, Northern California has drawn us back and friends greet …
Friends: twenty year friends (mothers of my younger son’s friends); former work colleagues who have become friends; former neighbors who remain friends; couples friends from my husband’s first job. I reconnected with several of these northern California friends the past few days as I begin life once again on the West Coast, far from Austin …
We heard a lot about Waffle House diners when we were in Austin (not a franchise we’d seen before), but since we rarely eat waffles or pancakes or chicken-fried steaks or really, most any type of diner food, we went only once—the day the movers packed our furniture for the drive to Sonoma. Here I …
Today, December 2, is our last full day in Austin after almost two years of living in this city and the state of Texas. My grandfather was born and raised on a farm about 100 miles from here and, after graduating from Columbia Law School in New York City, practiced law in Dallas for several …
I most remember my father for his walks and talks with his student-athletes, our mother and us children, and his friends. We’d extend road trips, neighborhood walks, and hiking in the Blue Mountains to be able to continue our conversations with him. I do miss him even after eight years. I am thankful for inheriting …
The walk today was delightful, although the near freezing weather confuses me as to what inner and outer clothing to wear. My torso was fine, the four layers perfect, my hands toasty with rabbit fur-lined mittens (likely not politically correct), and my head warm beneath the knit beany cap (except for my flattened post-hat hair). …
Stephen Jay Gould divides the genre of popular science writing into two modes: Galilean (intellectual essays about nature’s puzzles) and Franciscan (lyrical pieces about nature’s beauties). I am divided as I am drawn toward both men and their forms : Galileo was brave and courageous with his science while St. Francis of Assisi contributed to our …
Cold, quiet, and serene. The temperatures in the high teens and low twenties have forced me inside (although I cannot help but bundle up to walk on the icy trails, gaze at the snow-dotted hills and glance at deer coming down from the higher elevations at least twice a day). I am working on a …
I’ve been thinking about houses (reading Tracy Kidder’s “House”) and homes (just finished Roxane Gray’s “An Untamed State”) lately, what they mean to us as physical shelters, emotional cocoons, family gathering places, and remembrances of our roots. I realize more and more how important home is to me: the familiar pictures on the walls, the pots …