Let Her Have August
On peaches, changing light, and not knowing yet
DIRTY NAILS
Dispatches from the garden and the edge of reason
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The Eggs Are Not the Point
On counting heads at dusk
What Mothers Do
On loving two children when one is gone
All Creatures Great and Inconvenient
Notes on cohabitation
Perennial Weirdo
Barefoot, bleeding slightly, fine
Since Then
The mother my daughter never got to meet
Stalk Dirty to Me
Notes from inside the sunflower forest
Keep Looking
Between foxgloves and coneflowers
Just Spending Time In It
The garden according to James
Exhale
A dirtbag gardener's guide to standing still
Daisy
On names and what survives them
Evidence
On gardening and the traces it leaves behind
Love With Nowhere to Go
On grief, surplus, and putting it in the ground
Even Like That
On thinning seedlings and other forms of attachment
Aspirational Equipment
Dutch tools and American behavior
Back on My Knees
I'll just check one thing
Before Anything Has Started
The seed packets for this stretch of the season live in an old tea tin on the kitchen table.
Seven
On April 24, Daisy would have been seven.
Bloom with a View
April, and what doesn’t return
Down to Earth
Hands in cold soil