May 2026 digest

After 10+ years out of school, I’m going back.

I spent the last two months getting my applications together. And at the beginning of May I found out that I’ve been accepted into the MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults at Hamline University. Yay! [Insert my nervous, excited yelp here.]

Motherhood has given me a lot of things. And one of those things is clarity. Motherhood makes me ask over and over again: what do I actually want to spend my time on? I keep coming back to the same three things… my kids, the environment, and writing. This next step feels like a way to bring all three together in a more intentional way.

If you’ve ever gone back to school later in life, I’d love any tips, advice, or “here’s what I wish I knew” thoughts.

😭 When a humor writer gets depressed: Speaking of figuring yourself out through motherhood, I loved this really thoughtful and silly and vulnerable read by Lindsey Smith. It weaves together grief, shifting self-image, getting older, and poop jokes.

🧪 Has your scientific work been cut? The New York Times wants to know. Research can feel abstract until you remember it shapes the air we breathe, the medicine we take, and the future we’re heading toward.

🌳 How to build a thousand-year-old tree: A really great read about an old, gnarly tree and the role it plays in supporting all kinds of creatures. It also looks into what it means to accelerate the age of trees to foster these environments. It makes me want to find an old tree with bendy branches that I can climb and read a book on.

This past winter, we got almost no snow in Salt Lake City. Utah recorded its lowest snowpack since monitoring began, and it made me wonder: What actually happens if all the ice melts? So I went down a research rabbit hole to try to figure it out.

What happens if all the ice actually melts?

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May 7

It’s hard to pinpoint when I first started caring about the planet. But my love for the outdoors was likely cemented during the childhood summers I spent hiking to waterfalls and swimming in the lakes of upstate South Carolina.

The findings can feel overwhelming. But I keep coming back to the same thing: none of this happens overnight, which means there is still time. And that I should just keep doing what I can, when I can.

Thanks for being here. If you know someone else who likes to ramble about parenting, would call themselves a treehugger, or loves a good book, forward this newsletter to them so they can join us too.

Until next time, take care of yourself, your people, and the patch of earth around you.