Note: In our last edition of Staying Power, I told a story about how stars had come to be in the night sky. In response, a reader asked me how the daytime sky had come…
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This is my version of a story I first heard from Laura Packer. I keep retelling it in different settings, because the world keeps needing to hear it. In the beginning, there was only light…
Shortly after midnight, I’m wakened by severe spasms in my belly and gnawing pain in my lower back. Almost at once I recognize the symptoms: kidney stones. I’ve experienced such an attack before. Passing big…
By the time you read this, I’ll be immersed in my annual mid-winter writing retreat. Eleven days of solitary work near San Diego, California. (Think: Sunny. Balmy. Green. Oceanside. Think: Not winter in South Dakota!)…
I sit a lot. How about you?
In my writing studio, first thing in the morning, I settle into my “Bliss Chair.” (Have you added your blessing to it yet?) If I’m not careful, I’ll still be in that chair, happily lost in my creative projects, at 6:00 p.m., when my husband gets home from work.
Up here in the northern hemisphere, we’re approaching the winter solstice. Marking the start of the winter season, December 21 will be the shortest day and the longest, darkest night of the year. After the…
“Do you know that awesome feeling when you get into bed, fall right to sleep, stay asleep all night, and wake up feeling refreshed? … Me neither.” So goes the joke. Here’s another: “I’m neither…
The first lie I can remember telling dates to my first day of kindergarten. The big classroom in our small-town school (long since razed) enchanted me. With a bank of tall windows along one side…
Nightly temperatures have been dipping into the twenties, but at our house, we’re still enjoying tomatoes, thanks to our friend Jim and the small greenhouse he rigged up in our “pandemic victory garden.” Whenever I…
In the hardware store, I select a quart of interior paint from the brands on the shelf. Bright white, for household trim. “My,” the cashier says, as she rings me up, “you’re quite the golden…
I The woman wades into the shallow stream. The frigid October water nips the skin of her legs. The gravelly bottom bites the soles of her bare feet. It’s too late in the season for…
Sometimes “once” just isn’t enough.
Last fall, during a socially distanced writing retreat in Oakwood Lakes State Park, my friend Ruby and I took a short night hike around a wooded peninsula. Without flashlights. Without even a sliver of moon to see by.
This past week, as the leaves began to turn red and gold once again, Ruby and I met up for another writing retreat. This time we camped beside a slough, or big pond, in Lake Herman State Park.
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