Featured Posts
Like Mother, Like Daughter
One of my favorite photos shows my toddler son sitting on my desk, gripping a pen in his chubby hand, scribbling in one of my notebooks with a look of utter concentration. He grew up with a penchant for telling stories, and although his chosen media are not the same as mine, I love that he feels comfortable sharing his creativity with the world.
I imagine that’s how my friend Lisa feels about her daughter, Fiona. They both threw caution to the wind and tried something new recently. And then they both wrote with vulnerability and charm about what they did. The situations are totally different, but I think you’ll agree that jumping off a cliff might actually be the easier of the two adventures.
Trusting Your Life to Golden Coils of Grass
Does it take courage to be the first one to cross this one-of-a-kind bridge, re-woven from grass every June? Or does it take trust in the craftsmanship of one man, descended from five centuries of bridge-builders? I’m completely fascinated by this story from Eliot Stein’s book “Custodians of Wonder: Ancient Customs, Profound Traditions, and the Last People Keeping Them Alive.”
Reporting from the Squirrel Cooking World Championship
This story from Eater about the World Champion Squirrel Cook Off is my favorite kind of writing: quirky, fun, but ultimately very respectful of the unique people and traditions that make our world so wonderfully diverse.
Watercolors of ‘Colorful Threads’ (aka Immigrants)
In “Threads: A Celebration of the Immigrant Story in Watercolor,” artist Carol Carter is responding to the newcomers in her community, going one-on-one with them through the intimate act of painting their portraits. As the introductory essay promises, “Each one acts as a beacon of freedom and opportunity; together—drawn from every corner of the world—Threads shows an America bursting with energy.”
5 Paths to New Outdoor Adventures
My first time rappelling happened in France. I was with a longtime friend and her cousin, who only spoke French. He suggested something that I vaguely understood to be an outdoor activity. My friend agreed with gusto for both of us. And that’s how I found myself strapped to a rope and descending off an abandoned railroad bridge to practice. Then it was off to the real adventure on the cliffs of Ardeche.