Tag: Home

Every Time I Think I’m Home

every time I think I'm home

If I left somewhat suddenly (after 11 years) or you were surprised, then I think maybe you weren’t paying attention. Every time I think I’m home, something changes my mind. Maybe it’s the porch or its the lack of the porch. Maybe it’s the wide open spaces, or the bats and the trees. There were…

End of Day – Day 3 – Poetry Month

Climbing Trees

End of day lends itself to Gathering ephemera. Unsorted, a day succumbs. It’s all detritus and last-minute noise Eardrums ringing, hippocampus Vibrating. The occurrence of Night surprising as a summer cold, As easily forgiven for the rest it gives. End of day, casting off aspersions Like stitches, or old dogs– What agreement did we conjure…

This is home

Happy at Happy Joe's in LeClaire

Two flights, five burgers at the Atlanta TGI Friday’s airport location. A bag of gummy Lifesavers, and of course, the real lifesavers: four headsets, an iPad and two iPhones with digital movies. One hour’s drive, and we are home. By home, I mean. HOME. Not Iowa, the place I grew up. I mean: here. Connecticut.…

Cargo Pants, Packing Lists, and the Pothole of Despair

Do they sell just the PEZ refills? Anywhere?My house is full of crap. Our world is full of crap. Today at the store, the cashier and the customers ahead and behind me and I were all talking about back-to-school sales. Old Navy-this and sales tax free week-that. The kind of mindless conversation we humans love…

The First Recipe

A BIG QUESTION Guest Post by Krista Richards Mann — I love cooking. Starting in grade school, my mother let me make dinner for the family once a week. The first recipe I remember learning was something she called salmon patties. We removed small vertebras from a can of salmon with our fingers, mixed the…

My Friend, with Existential Chickens

I have a super great old friend from college, Jen. She’s a writer (here’s her book) and a journalist. And a mom. She lives in Des Moines and recently she acquired chickens. She and her husband and her kids have chickens in their backyard.  Do you ever look at your friends, when they do something…

The Wall

This heat has No name at all until You remind yourself He. Is. There. Exit the climate-controlled Iceblock Bedroom Only to hit The Wall. Day 11, A River of Stones

Perennial Work

Our house had so many little projects after we moved in. Not the least of those was the gardens. The previous owner had some kind of psychotic idea of planting… Which is to say, she is exactly like me. So I really love to putter in the flower beds and took on the notion that…

On Being Underscheduled

Ahhh. Today was one of those most perfect days. I was so happy because my zen-wonderful brother-in-law/sister-in-law and their kids were visiting. They have such a nice way of arriving with their own unplanned, unhurried, not-worried manner. They are — or seem to be — just quite happy to hang out at our house and…

On Home and Horizons

At least three times since I have been back to visit my parents, I have thought: “It’s nice to be home.” Then I remembered that I haven’t lived here since 20 years, half my life. Home comes when I feel my heart Drop its weight in relief At the sight of flat land running Forever…

Weekends are for Lovers

You know that elbow Room? That place where you can go and lean against the wall and feel your chest cave completely against your backbone in utter perfect relief? You know that place? That place, where the tables are always half-full and yet no one ever seems to bother the one chair you love, the…

Our First Christmas

Of course it isn’t. But it is, really. Because Colin and I are spending Christmas, each of us–for the first time in over 18 years– at home. Here’s our first Christmas tree together. We got it pre-cut this year from a great little family-owned, fifth generation nursery called Q-Gardens. Next year we’ll probably cut one…

Dusting for Exercise

Knitting is very conducive to thought. It is nice to knit a while, put down the needles, write a while, then take up the sock again. — Dorothy Day I feel as if I have disappeared again. This was the transitional week, the time I had “free” to get ready, to get things done. School…