Barbara Falconer Newhall

I’m Thankful for a Window. It’s Small, but It Opens Onto . . . Everything

I’m thankful for a window. It’s small but it opens onto everything: a tree. A bird. A squirrel. Not much. But in fact everything. Read more.

Could this garden be saved? My California natives were looking bleak. A trip to the local native plant nurseries was in order. Read more.

My husband is the hero of my next book. I wanted it all — family and career. And Jon made it possible. Read more.

Widowed: Do I still miss him? Not really. Missing Jon is not the shape my grief takes. Most days. Read more.

I’m a grammar geek and I’m old: I don’t get nauseous. I’ve never received a kudo. And I never, ever lay on my yoga mat. Read more.

Instead of playing with my toys, the visiting grandchildren played with a bag of peanut shells — and made tiny peanut people. Read more.

It’s true. My new bathroom is beautiful. I’ve been taking a lot of showers in there lately, so I should know. Read more.