I sit here tapping out these words to the sound of rain and thunder. Yet another whisper of spring nipping at the skirts of winter. Spring never hurries to New England. But it is this same scarcity that lures me outside at even the slightest invitation. Daffodils push through the sod -- they must be inspected. Birds singing in the morning light -- they must have something to show me. So, we pull on mud boots and jackets, my littles…
I am earning new gray hairs. Only today a solitary white hair forced its way out of my scalp…
Homeschooling. It’s an epidemic that has been sweeping across our nation at an unprecedented rate this past decade. Who are…
“If someone knows who he is, really knows, then he doesn’t need to hate. That’s why we still need” ― Madeleine…
I am emotional about Louisa May Alcott. When I think of her I become misty. You may know her as…
You might be a boy mom if your bathroom smells like a subway elevator in July. On subway elevators in…
I like to wear jeans with holes in the knees to church. I also like to slip my sandals off,…
One more circle to close. Before I loved The Bearded Wonder, there was a prophecy. A good man told The…
Last week, I wrote about God the Author; the one who pens the story of your life and the massive,…
When I began homeschooling my boys, I was too confoundedly independent to join a charter school but too untested to…