My garden looks dreadful. Here’s why. My plants won’t cooperate. The iris wants to be an iris. The azalea, an azalea. The poppy, a poppy. Read more.
Widowed: He Knew How to Show a Girl a Good Time
I was in the right place at the right time for the 2017 solar eclipse because my husband, Jon Newhall, knew how to show a girl a good time. Read more.
Spotted: Red Mary Janes at the Easter Vigil
When I spotted a pair of red Mary Janes at the Easter Vigil, my meditations flitted from shopping to death and resurrection and back to shopping. Read more.
Not Dead Yet. That Feral Plum Tree Lives On
The old plum tree lying on its side was a messy scramble of black and useless branches. But it was not dead yet. Read more.
Widowed: He’s Pushing Up a Daisy
I checked in on Jon the other day and I found him right where we’d buried him. He was pushing up a daisy. Just one. Read more.
Sheltering at Home Revisited: The Virus Arrives
Sheltering at home revisited: The virus arrives, the shutdowns go into effect, and we find out how much our “mere” acquaintances mean to us. Read more.
Widowed: The One Good Thing About Grief
The one good thing about grief is — there’s not a darned thing you can do about it. Someone has died, and that’s that. Read more.