I’m sitting in the dark, lit only by the glow of my laptop and the colored lights from our baby Christmas tree. The night feels settled and slumbering, as though
I’m sitting in the dark, lit only by the glow of my laptop and the colored lights from our baby Christmas tree. The night feels settled and slumbering, as though
We’re in Texas. And, following a healthy obsession with holiday themes that started in young childhood, I’ve been thinking a lot about thankfulness, what I’m thankful for, and what I
I know I’ve said this before, but sometimes I really wish that caring was easier. Or not caring. I wish I could care, or not care, as the wind may
A few things have happened lately to make me feel crazy in this whole writing/horses/following my bliss career move I’ve settled on. I don’t feel like a good writer, a
I hate going to Wal-Mart. Weird people look at me funny there, like I’m the odd one for not having neon shoelaces in my hair and 23 kids. I always
Editorial note – I was home-schooled. Not for fourth grade or because the Christian preschool was full that year, but the real deal. K-12. So that might help you to
Fridays generally mean that I’m working longer days than normal and come home ready to fall on the couch, horsey smell and all, and wait for my boots to fall
My grandma is 84 years old. She’s lived through The Great Depression and several smaller recessions, World War II and several smaller wars, severe Polio, putting herself through college, leaving
Denver uses trekking poles to climb foreboding crags in howling snow. I use them for pleasant hikes in 70-degree sunshine, on a well-marked trail amongst wildflowers and birdsong. To each
I have an old friend, as most of us do. She and I are a few months apart in age, and our parents were friends long before we came on