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.

In your pencil-to-paper moments of late, when you're marking down ideas of things for gifting and things for receiving, when you're listing what, exactly, you might welcome into your life and lifestyle this holiday season, have you ever thought of including the word home?

I've ordered more teaspoons. In fact, I ordered all I could find in our silverplate pattern. Because, somehow, the disappearing teaspoon situation is still a situation.

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

In the small, quiet bedroom nestled under a seven foot, beaded plank ceiling at the back of the house, there’s a bed on one wall, with nightstands carved out of flanking floor-to-ceiling cabinetry.

It was the color that first caught my eye. A shade somewhere between mustard and honey, it’s the color of the water in high mountain streams, the color of ochre, of kelp…