Cherishing the Measureless
As I write, Gwyn’s at the piano practicing a Beethoven Sonata, repeating trills, stumbling on…
All Gift
My family occasionally prays down by the Mississippi River with the Nibi walkers, a group…
Practice makes… pleasure?
As a serious practitioner and teacher of one art form—writing—I don’t often share that I…
Plunge Into Fall
This July, my fourteen-year-old daughter, who’s bug- and sun-adverse, who is obsessed with fancy hotels…
All Gift
These glorious summer mornings, I grab my cereal bowl and head out first thing for…
The Rough Draft Self
For how many years now—twenty? thirty?—I’ve quoted Anne Lamott’s snarky bit of writing advice, gleaned…
Passing Along the Gift
Despite five years of plugging away on a new book, I still feel tongue-tied whenever…
Happy Camel
When I turned fifty I did a ten-day silent retreat at the Benedictine monastery at…
Mothering Instincts
In honor of International Women’s Day I dug back into Hannah, Delivered, my first attempt…
Relax! Relax! Relax!
At my daughter’s swim lesson a few years ago, an enthusiastic teacher stood hip-deep in…
The Sly Muse’s Guises
With some regularity I’m overtaken by timely, pretty-darn-good (I almost wrote “brilliant”) inspirations bursting with…
On Rest and Lying Fallow
Snow began at 8 a.m. and is coming down fast and furious. My thirteen-year-old languishes…