The sweet solitude of a fresh snow has fallen on us. I walk through the powder, an excited puppy leaping about my ankles, and I’m held by the quiet, by the calm, by the pause.

To begin, give yourself permission to have a beautiful wardrobe. Go ahead.

He called from that hot, humid, far-away place to say

Here we are, loves, finding ourselves in August, where summer is rounded and full, stretching to hold all her abundance.

I remember this day so well. We’d taken a hike down by the river, the boys and I.

Snow fell during the night, and there’s a clay pot on the dining table with narcissus bulbs beginning to wake as they drink their first water from moist soil.

I’ve gone and ordered a potted white cyclamen. Two, to be exact, with ruffled edges, I requested, if they could possibly be found.

Sometimes, the smallest shift can be the key that changes everything.

I look out my window and see a whitetail buck walking slowly across the pasture, braving the snowy cold while the rest of the deer stay warmly bedded down.

It wasn’t until yesterday that I took my own advice, when, in the muddle of a full work day, I began my fall home edit

There’s that whoosh of relief and exultant euphoria when you’re able to finally deliver that thing you’ve been quietly nurturing for so long.

You can learn a lot by looking back. Two years ago, I wrote about my morning and evening routines