March 2019 Last month I wrote about cleaning out the clothes closet and paring down both décor and essentials. I’m happy with the simple, clean look. A box of once-treasured vintage items and some things in the attic that I hadn’t touched in 12 years will soon be a memory of times past. (Now as I rewrite this, I regret donating that box. My daughter is now a vintage re-seller, but it was necessary at the time.) One of two halves of an unknown type of wood that my brother must

It’s clean up time in the garden: raking leaves, pulling weeds, cutting back dead growth, and a myriad of other chores occupy most of my day. More random than methodical, I move from one thing to the other, often getting distracted from the task at hand to pull an isolated weed or place a piece of garden art in a different location. Somewhat inefficient, but it makes sense to me--it’s the way I do things; however, there is one thing that doesn’t make sense: losing, or misplac

Hot and humid weather has lingered far too long. Primary activities in the garden are filling the birdfeeders, making sure the fountains don’t run dry, and pulling weeds here and there--before the sun pokes its fiery head into my backyard. I feel the lack of garden time. I miss my hands in the dirt, building rock beds, moving plants around and planting new ones, all while hearing quiet whispers in my meeting place with God. Not that we don’t meet, but you know what it’s like

As I’ve written before, there is no end to the garden to-do list. It’s a constant challenge to keep the list from dominating my life, and I fail on a regular basis. But some things on the list are just essential, which is often subjective. This morning, in the middle of an essential task, I thought: How essential is this? Dove-proofing bird feeders—really? That must be the most nonessential thing in the world. But bear with me while I explain why it is "essential" to me. Firs