A Slight Turn of the Wheel
Yesterday I woke to a world remade. Snow had come in the night—unhurried, unannounced—laying its white blessing on everything that would hold it. The garden stood like a congregation of old saints, each dried stalk cupping a soft mound of light, as if grace had weight to it, as if grace preferred the withered things.…
The Long Lesson
There is a particular kind of snow that arrives only when the air is cold enough to ring like glass. It falls in a thin, airy veil—so light you could almost believe it hesitated on the way down. This morning it lay across the yard like a blessing whispered rather than spoken, barely covering the…
Where in the Circle?
Mr. Rogers once said, “When I was a boy, and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’” I have been holding those words close this week—like a smooth stone in my pocket—because the news from Minneapolis,…
In My Words 