But sometimes I feel like I should have huge goals—impossible things which I turn into realities by sheer force of will. Meeting more neighbors, having more kids, and trying to live outside my comfort zone every once in a while doesn’t seem like glamorous enough list.

So here’s my question: is it a sin not to dream big?

I recently read the most devastating book I’ve ever encountered: A Little Life, by Hanya Yanagihara. I don’t recommend it; it is brutally depressing and filled with a landmine of trigger warnings. But it was also tender and luminous and thought-provoking, in the way of philosophical fiction that leaves you with more questions than answers.

I’ve been contemplating a certain passage in particular. Early on in the book, one of the characters struggles to move forward in his dream career of acting. And that brings on the following meditation:

I was struck by the accuracy of that description. The current culture of self-fulfillment can truly make happiness feel like a necessity, and chasing it feel like a burden.

But I wonder… Does settling for something less than your wildest dreams make you weak and lazy? Or does it simply mean you are grateful and content?

The answer, of course, falls somewhere between two extremes. Certainly there are ways to “settle” in life that stem from laziness, fear, or apathy. In those cases, I believe failing to put in the work to achieve something better, something more worthwhile, is wrong. Sitting on the couch eating ice cream and watching TV while you wait for a new job, a new relationship, a new purpose to fall into your lap is not a sustainable long-term practice.

But what about the times when you genuinely don’t feel the need to pursue a life that is more flashy and spectacular? What about the seasons when you are pursuing your dreams, but realize that the timing is not yet right to go all-in, and that you might as well learn to enjoy the “little life” that you have been gifted, just as it is at this very moment?

Recently my husband and I have had many conversations about buying our first house. We’re still renting the same home we found when we got married 4.5 years ago. This wasn’t the plan. Then again, neither was this economy.

That dream of owning a house had begun to feel like a burden. Settling for something less, or a timeline less to my liking, seemed “weak-willed and ignoble.” Wasn’t it our responsibility as adults to push out into the real world, to figure out agonizing piles of paperwork, to stretch our budget to the limit, to go into lots of debt if we had to, because this is the dream, right? This is what you’re supposed to do, ready or not, right?

After a long conversation one night, we came to the conclusion that our finances are just not in a good place to buy anything but a miraculously cheap fixer-upper until the housing market returns to reason. In other words: we will likely not buy a house in the immediate future.

And what if, as I continued to object, we have another baby while we still live in a 2-bedroom, 1 tiny bathroom house? We’ll make it work if we need to, was my husband’s reply. People have done far, far more challenging things. And we’re surrounded by family who would help us in a heartbeat should we really get into a bad situation.

That conversation took such a weight off of my chest. It gave me permission to look around our darling little house and remind myself to feel joy in it again. To appreciate all the wonderful things about it. To allow myself to dream small, for now or for a long time, who knows.

I don’t think that’s ignoble. I don’t want to carry my dreams of happiness as a burden. I want to live right where I am and enjoy what I’ve been given for as long as the Lord sees fit to give them to me. I don’t want to continually defer happiness because I’m too busy picking up my feet to ever let my roots grow where I am.

And when the time does come for my dreams to come true, there will still be aspects of them I’ll need to relinquish. That brings me to the second part of the passage I quoted earlier:

Something even trickier than waiting on a dream is giving up on one. Now that’s a great way to make improve your self-esteem…

Don’t get me wrong—most of the time I think working hard to pursue good dreams is a noble thing. In the book, Willem decides to keep pushing toward his goals and he doesn’t regret doing so. That storyline is not only relegated to fiction. But. We all know that good things can become ultimate in ways we didn’t originally desire.

I’ve heard plenty of stories of this happening, often with careers or business ideas. It’s so tempting to chase those glittering dreams of promotion, growth, or more money at the cost of the less lustrous loves like faith, family, community, financial stability.

I myself am prone to framing some new desire in a large and prominent place in my heart so that every time I open the door to my soul, it’s right there staring back at me until all the other photos and pictures start to fade in the blinding blaze of that one wish. I start walking around like an abandoned art gallery, pining after a painting I don’t own while the other masterpieces collect dust and fall off the walls. How foolish! What a waste.

I may never “live large.” Perhaps my dreams will come true, perhaps they won’t. Perhaps I’ll have to find the courage to give up just as often as I have to find courage to keep going. Regardless, I certainly hope I’m able to make the most of my one precious little life. And whether your dreams today are big or small, I hope you will too.

~Allison

I had hoped the weather would be nice enough for an actual picnic, but since the forecast called for rain, I moved everything inside. I just managed to squeeze the 18 or so guests into my small home! Today I’m sharing all the decor, food, and games I used, plus a peek into my house in party mode. Enjoy!

F O O D

The food table turned out lovely! With my mom's flowers + checkered tablecloths, my youngest sister's beautiful cake, and all the pretty colors, it turned into a decoration in and of itself.

The main dish was a sandwich I more or less made up (risky, I know). Thankfully they turned out delicious and received rave reviews. I shaped a batch of my usual sourdough recipe into miniature 70g loaves and baked them on cookie sheets. These I sliced in half and spread with a sort of pesto made with cherry tomatoes instead of nuts. Next I sliced up some nice Havarti cheese, and added a couple of smoked deli turkey slices to each sandwich. I baked them at 400 for maybe 7-10 minutes, or until the sandwiches were hot and melty.

My favorite dish was probably this checkerboard charcuterie. People barely ate it because the ingredients were in other charcuterie plates, and it took a while to make, BUT IT'S SO CUTE. Simply an arrangement of mozzarella cheese, peaches, and fresh figs from my husband's family's old farm + a local community orchard.

I also had a regular fruit charcuterie board because we definitely needed more fruit. *nods* I actually had to refill this a few times.

Also prepared a simple veggie platter with a tasty dip (half sour cream, half mayo, with homemade ranch seasoning mix).

My youngest sister Carmen made this beautiful and delicious cake! It fit perfectly with the picnic theme. She and my mom came early to help me prep the food. Couldn’t have done it without them, phew.

I also made gluten free + dairy free peanut butter cookies; hard boiled eggs dressed with olive oil, dill, and feta cheese; and gluten free crackers with mozzarella cubes and little pepperoni roses. Had to make sure there was enough protein and nourishment for the multiple pregnant ladies in attendance. :)

D E C O R

One of the keywords Megan sent me in our planning texts was “denim.” I happen to have a TON of old denim I’ve been using for various projects, as my subscribers know. ;) I knotted scraps to make two garlands, and hung some navy balloons for an extra festive touch. I took down our TV and used the entertainment center as a space to hold gifts. It completely overflowed once the guests arrived, whoops!

I also used a partially-finished denim quilt to cover our cushioned coffee-table-turned seat. And I displayed a few baby books on the piano to put the “baby” in baby shower.

Because our dining room is quite small, my husband suggested I push the table against the wall to help the flow of traffic around it. That definitely was for the best. I collected pretty much every seat in our house which made for a charmingly mismatched assortment.

Here’s a phone picture taken after the party was over and some things were changed, but I like that you can see the table decorations better in this one. One of the candles got completely demolished by the breeze from an open window!

My favorite decor detail was this mini watering can in the middle of the table, filled with cherry tomatoes from my garden. It added such a perfect whimsical touch!

A C T I V I T I E S

I wanted to find a game that was 1) not lame or cringey, and 2) got guests to interact with each other a bit. I ended up doing a version of Scattergories inspired by Pinterest. Feel free to download and adapt this file if you wish!

In order to make this more fun and less stressful, I didn’t start a timer. I just gave everyone a little while to write answers down, and suggested they prioritize unique answers over filling in every category. This resulted in hilarity and spirited arguments about the legitimacy of certain people’s answers. For the prize, I filled a thrifted basket with a colorful tea towel, blue and yellow taper candles, and a special pancake mix.

One of the highlights of the party was the special activity/guestbook area. I really wanted to incorporate Megan’s amazing magazine, Cut+Paste, into the shower somehow. It’s essentially a magazine made to be cut up, full of beautiful illustrations and photographs from many different artists. I finally decided on a collaborative collage project: a baby’s first colors book.

I cut out six squares “pages” from thick cardboard and painted each one a different color. Then I set out magazines, scissors, and glue. The guests were encouraged to flip through the magazines and cut out illustrations they liked, pasting them on the page that matched the picture’s color. I also provided a little tray of precut illustrations for those who didn’t want finicky scissor work. Finally, I finished the last page as an example and made space on the back for people to sign once they’d added to the book.

The guests absolutely loved this activity, and quite a few of them got super into the collaging and didn’t want to stop. :) It was also an excellent advertisement for Megan’s magazines because everyone who flipped through them immediately fell in love and wanted their own copies!

I made the book cover out of the same cardboard plus denim fabric and more pages from Megan’s magazine. The title is stiff felt securely (I hope!) tacked down with fabric glue. I ended up having to make a new cover, actually. The first one was a little too small once the pages had been thickened by the layers of cutouts and the packing tape over top to protect everything. If you’d like to do this activity but don’t want to make a fancy cover, you could simply punch holes through the pages and insert metal binder rings.

This is how the book turned out! Look how cute!

Overall, it was an absolute joy to put this party together, and from what I could tell, Megan and the guests had a lot of fun participating in it. I hope you guys enjoyed scrolling through my little recap and maybe found some ideas for the next party you’ll host as well.

~Allison

The real marvels are only visible if you lean in close. Every small star surrounds a center block with 25 miniscule squares, each the size of my fingernail. Every corner perfectly kisses the next. If you bring the fabric up close to your face, you can just make out nearly invisible dots of hand quilting securing the entire piece together. Flawless. But with just enough human inconsistency to clearly separate it from any Amazon lookalikes.

That table runner is far from the only textile artwork in my grandmother’s house. Every bedroom is layered with handmade quilts and comforters piled two or three deep and topped with cross-stitched pillowcases. Patchwork masterpieces hang unassumingly on wooden racks in the corners of upstairs rooms. Braided rugs grace every bathroom’s tiled floor. And a real person’s hands made them all. Aunts and great aunts, grandmothers and great-grandmothers. The women of my family have wrapped her home in a warm perfume of fresh linen and vintage cotton.

It was my grandmother, an amazing seamstress in her own right, who taught me to sew. She helped guide the squares of my first quilt under her sewing machine when I was 7 or 8 years old. Growing up with needles in my blood, so to speak, I would have always appreciated the skill required to make such beautiful pieces. Since getting back into sewing more recently, however, I was absolutely blown away upon revisiting them this past weekend. Impressed by the skill, yes, and also by the sheer amount of time gathered into those thousands of stitches. How many hundreds of hours have passed through these fabrics, trailing the threads of quiet concentration?

One year during my sewing lessons, my grandmother took me to visit the woman who taught her to quilt: Aunt Mary.

I’d have to trace a path through the thick Mennonite genealogies on my grandfather’s bookshelf to tell you exactly how we were related, but when you grow up with hundreds of extended family members in your vicinity, you don’t try to connect every dot. Outside her house, a sinewy black horse stomped and twitched its tail. Inside, her rooms carried the enigmatic perfume of the elderly, of two decorous sisters about 80 years of age.

Aunt Mary wore thick, dark goggles that blocked her failing eyes, her vision bleeding into the colors of her quilts and tiny, tiny stitches in the fading dusk. So when she spoke, I focused on her smocked chin. It was puckered and tucked as if she had stitched her own skin about the lips. She led us through her small sewing room, touching fabric and pulling thread with deft, knobbed fingers.

Aunt Mary was something of a legend in the wide valley where she lived, with a reputation as “one of the finest quilters of her generation” by those who shared her culture and by those who did not. My grandmother tells me she would wake up in the morning with her head full of quilt blocks that had never been sewn before.

After our visit, I walked out with my arms full of folded fabric carefully selected from her large gray tubs. I fingered the colored cotton and wondered what shapes I would make with them. I felt, and still feel, proud to stitch the threads of her tradition into my own generation.

Though I have made several comforters and many small sewing projects since then, I have never quilted a blanket by hand. Then, several months ago, I sewed a queen-sized quilt for our bedroom mostly out of my husband’s old jeans and shirts. And after some research and trial and error, I decided to embark on my first hand quilting journey.

I was originally reluctant to hand quilt rather than machine-quilt for two reasons: the first one, obviously, was the time commitment. I have many hobbies and many responsibilities—and to be frank, many more entertaining ways to waste my time should I choose to. But I knew the time spent on this project would be a gift to me. My grandmother tells stories of her relatives bringing a quilt out to the living room to work on it for the day. In their world purposely barren of television, video games, Instagram, and Substack, a day’s entertainment might consist of bending over a riot of fabric and slowly, painstakingly, fusing it into a work of art. So sure, I might get more dopamine hits scrolling reels instead of counting stitches, but at the end of those hours, what will I be holding in my hand except a phone that’s low on battery? Wouldn’t I rather be covered in a thousand beautiful tucks of warmth stored up for years to come?

But that brings me to my second objection. I want this quilt to be used and still to last for years and years. When the day comes and my months of work are at an end, I don’t want to hide the result away somewhere precious and dusty because I’m afraid of my toddler scattering cookie crumbs on my bed. Staying at my grandmother’s house helped me confront that concern. All these beautiful quilts being used and loved, making her guests feel warm and comforted… If she could put this gorgeous hand-appliqued quilt in her guest room, I thought, I can use my own hand-quilted piece.

Once I made the decision, I assumed the task at hand would be easy, if tedious. After all, I’ve done plenty of hand sewing and embroidery in my life. It turns out it I needed to buy specific quilting needles and a thimble and learn how to do the rocking stitch and “pop the knot.” I have so very much more to learn! I’ve already logged countless hours of stitching (usually while watching a show with my husband or listening to an audiobook or the Bible). My goal is to finish the quilt before cold weather comes, and I think I’m well on track so far.

It has been a surprisingly enjoyable experience so far. Most evenings I sit on the couch and pull out my small scissors and lavender thimble. The quilt is warm on my lap and my improvement is clear with each new block I complete. Not only do I feel a quiet excitement, creating an heirloom from a pile of old scraps; not only is it a relief to have something productive to do with my fingers while my mind finally rests; but I feel proud to keep this part of my heritage alive. How many 20-somethings hand quilt a new bedcover from ripped jeans and too-small shirts instead of buying a new duvet off the Internet? How many even care? Well, at least one! I’m proud of myself for persevering in a project that is very much an exercise in long-term gratification.

Don’t get me wrong: I can’t wait to finally spread the completed quilt on our bed and sleep under it for the first time. But a part of me will miss the prick of the needle as it dips through the fabric and the comforting weight of denim on my lap in the evenings. Finishing my first real quilt will feel bittersweet, I think.

I guess I’ll just have to start another. :)

~Allison

If you’re in the same boat, here are some of the breakfasts I’ve been enjoying recently. I’ll make a big recipe of each and serve it for a couple of days before switching to the next option.

1. Feta Dill Hardboiled Eggs || Hard boil a dozen eggs to your preferred consistency— I like around 10 minutes. Peel, slice in half, and top with crumbled feta, fresh dill, and a drizzle of olive oil. I imagine this served with fresh grapefruit and whole wheat toast - YUM. They also make great nutritious snacks.

2. Breakfast Cookies || These have been my favorite meal-prep breakfast for maybe a year or so now. I use this recipe, but I replace the maple syrup with the same amount of either mashed banana or applesauce. That way I can grab two cookies and get 18g of protein and 12g of fiber, with essentially zero added sugar! They’re more of a chewy granola bar consistency than cookie texture, but I love them and so does my toddler—she will eat them any time of day.

3. Protein Waffles || I came up with this recipe which my husband is particularly fond of, but there are many similar recipes on the internet. Here’s my recipe for a huge batch:

2 cups cottage cheese
12 eggs
1 cup sourdough discard
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1/2 cup melted better
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
2 TBSP. honey
dash of salt

Blend everything in a blender until smooth. Make into waffles or pancakes.

4. Breakfast Casserole || There are TONS of recipes for breakfast casserole, but I’ve made this one several times. It’s a great way to use up old, dry bread. But any egg-based breakfast casserole would be a great protein meal prep option.

5. Smoothie || A classic option that I used to forget is meal-preppable. I often make a chocolate PB banana smoothie since I almost always have homemade yogurt and the other ingredients necessary. But of course you can use yogurt and whatever fruit or add-ins you prefer. Flax seed or protein powder are easy ways to up the protein as well.

6. Overnight Oats || My husband does NOT care for overnight oats, but my toddler and I love them. So what I normally do is make a big batch of smoothie and save back a couple servings for my husband. Then I make the rest into several jars of overnight oats like so: 1/2 cup rolled oats, 1 TBSP chia seeds, and fill the rest of the pint jar with smoothie. Chill overnight and serve. Super easy and filling. (My quick PB banana version isn’t that aesthetic though, haha.)

7. Egg Bites || This recipe is from my SIL (thank Michelle!), and is sooo tender and flavorful and protein-packed.

14 eggs
24 oz. whole milk cottage cheese
2 cups shredded cheddar cheese
1 tsp. salt (use less if adding salty mix-ins like ham)
1 tsp. black pepper

Blend together until smooth. Pour into greased muffin tins, and add in mix-ins such as ham, sausage, herbs, or veggies. Bake at 300°F for 30 minutes.

To round out this post, here are several more breakfast I enjoy but don’t have matching pictures for. ;)

8. Breakfast Burritos || Fill tortillas with scrambled eggs, cheese, bacon and/or sausage, and anything else you want (I like adding cooked bell peppers). Wrap in tinfoil or plastic, and freeze. Then take out and reheat as needed!

9. Chia Pudding || You can find a myriad of recipes for this online, but it’s essentially chia seeds, milk, and sweetener/fruit mixed and put in the fridge to turn into a thick, pudding-like consistency.

10. Sausage Gravy || Fry up some sausage, sprinkle with enough flour to soak up the fat, then add milk and black pepper and cook until thickened. The milk/flour ratio can change depending on how thick you like your gravy. My secret ingredient is a couple dashes of liquid hickory smoke - yum! Serve with biscuits or pancakes.

11. Yogurt Bowl || Top plain Greek yogurt or cottage cheese with fruit, seeds, honey, etc. Make it meal-prep friendly by putting everything in jars and storing in the fridge.

12. Custard Oats || Sweet instant oatmeal is neither protein-rich nor good for your blood sugar. Custard oats are a better option. Boil rolled oats in milk until soft and thick. Take off of the heat and quickly whisk in one or two eggs to give your oatmeal extra nutrition and protein, as well as a luxurious creamy texture. Serve with sweet or savory toppings.

13. Quiche || Eggs, milk, cheese, and whatever add-ins you want, all baked into a pie crust. Here’s a recipe I’ve enjoyed in the past.

**********

There you have it! Hopefully this inspires you to incorporate some nutritious, tasty, and super-fast breakfasts into your routine this week. :) I’d love to hear your favorite healthy breakfasts in the comments!

~Allison

You’ve loved me through tables piled high with scissors and paint, paper and needles, fabric on the floor and under your feet and stray pins lost somewhere in the living room rug. You’ve sung me your songs, and my songs, accompanied a hundred hymns, typed out a thousand black-stemmed notes for my small binder.

We have yet to live some favorite memories, I’m sure, but we’ve lived our favorite memories so far: our perfect wedding day: the scent of peonies and taste of homemade doughnuts, our magical first dance with my white dress soft against your shoes and all our practice made perfect, with laughter and joy running over in a perfect rainbow arc touching down on the whirling circles of dancing friends and clapping family.

The honeymoon beach, the family vacation beaches, the trips with just the two of us in the chilled and salty air, a huge banana split for each of us and hair blowing wildly. An explosive tiny love nestled in our arms, a lifetime gift with a bow on top. Sitting in the grass with a newborn, then a little baby, then a talkative toddler with a lithe black kitty winding through her legs. Tickling our daughter until she screams with laughter that bursts in our hearts like bright soap bubbles. The small joys of a snack from the grocery store, a road less taken, a full moon shared, a storm watched from the porch.

We have not yet lived through the worst of us, I'm sure, but we've lived through the worst of us so far - the first rough edges grinding off with sparks flying, tears flowing, silence thick as steel and hard as fading hope on the long road home.

You’ve loved me through dripping paces down the hall, vomit in the tub, palms pressed to my back, blood on the bed and sweat-soaked hair. You’ve loved me through the roar of the final wave, the stutter of a first cry, through wet and silky skin born out of my skin and held to yours.

I've loved you past an ambulance, through broken bones, metal rods rammed through flesh, panicked prayers and screams in the night. I loved you with sloshing buckets of saliva and toothpaste, wet shampoo trickling over the edge of the bed and into my jeans, mounds of reused Walmart bags and garbage lids open and closed, open and closed.

You’ve loved me when I was a girl, then when my body was me and not me, when the taut swell of my belly blazed with purple lightning marks, when the roundness emptied and the thickened skin hung soft and strange. I’ve loved you through sunset bruises, shedding skin, angry scars and the bulge of metal under flesh.

Both of us, in different years, walking out our love to the water pitcher and back, screw on the lid, over and over. Both of us, driving while the other moans in the other seat; waiting in the emergency room for the other to return. Both of us pressing rags to foreheads. Both of us sleeping less than we thought possible, waking up covered in the other’s sweat. Both of us working in the sun til our heads swam and our muscles ached with the work. Both of us aching with lack of work and lack of routine.

We've slept ten feet apart in hospitals, took rotations on the leather couch, tossed sleepless with a brand-new babe at a birth center, sprawled on king beds feeling lost and lonely, then come back home and nearly pushed each other to the edges of our tiny double bed night after night.

We’ve walked so far, you and I, far enough to watch the blisters form and heal and callous. Calloused as in habitual, you know, not heartless. Just worn in a comfortable way, like the dips in the sofa where we sit and eat popcorn and ice cream in the evenings. Comfortable like long bedtime conversations, the feel of your back against mine, the language of glances and smiles across a crowd, my lips on your forehead and your arm behind my back.

Doubtless this sort of comfort will seem barely broken-in, much farther down the road. Doubtless we have vast swaths of emotions and pains and joys and fears to live out and track down together.

But, doubtless, we have come so far. You and I.

~Allison

Today I’m sharing my recent reads (or listens) and watches with you. Let me know if you want me to bring back the star ratings next time, but I’m skipping them for now because I overthink that part way too much, haha. Also I will add affiliate links to the books and movies this time because why not?!

Recent Reads

The Strike Novels, by Robert Galbraith: Started the year off strong with one of my new favorite series: the Cormoran Strike books, written by J. K. Rowling under a psuedonym. They differ from Harry Potter in nearly all aspects, except that both series are written with excellence. I’m glad a friend recommended these!

The mysteries are surprising and complicated. The books include a lot of adult content, but I appreciate that for the most part it’s there for a reason, often relating to a case or furthering character relationships. The characters are superbly realistic, multi-faceted, and well-written, with a depth of psychological insight that makes the criminals, heroes, and side characters alike interesting and compelling. My main complaint is that the author spins out romantic relationships exasperatingly long, like in annoying TV shows that go on for ages. Also I didn’t get super into the series until a few books in.

Educated by Tara Westover: An interesting memoir on the rags-to-riches theme, or more specifically, ignorance-to-genius. I didn’t love with the harsh light she casts on certain views, but she explains her reasoning well. This book was an interesting look at the power and freedom that education can bring, contrasted with the prison of a dysfunctional and rather abusive family.

The Growing Season by Sarah Frey: This one was alright. I didn’t find it super well-written, and I felt like the author’s voice was a bit arrogant and condescending at times. But it was neat to hear what goes on behind the scenes in a large-scale produce business, and everyone loves a good underdog story.

Life of Pi by Yann Martel: I’d obviously heard of this one, but only just now read it! I was a little disappointed, honestly. I feel like it’s a bit overhyped? To me the pacing felt extremely slow and the story overall was a bit boring. There were a lot of thought-provoking and wise philosophical thoughts, and I enjoyed the humorous writing style. I definitely didn’t expect the twist at the very end of the book. Overall, it was okay. I haven’t watched the movie, but it might actually fit the story better than a book format.

Timothy Keller by Collin Hansen: Timothy Keller is (well, was) the pastor I most respect. Friends from church lent us this book. It was a different style of memoir than I’m used to - more factual than personal - and thus I didn’t find it as entertaining as most memoirs. But it was interesting to learn more about the influences on Keller and the people and views who shaped him.

The Covenant of Water, by Abraham Verghese: Oh goodness, this one was horribly good, if you know what I mean. It’s an epic, sprawling story that spans many characters and generations. It’s written with beautiful, poetic prose. But it is SO sad and depressing. :( No one really ends up happy, and lots of people die terrible deaths. I felt drained by the end of it after vicariously experiencing so many characters’ broken hearts and lives. But if you like sad but beautiful books, this one’s for you!

Wormwood Abbey, by Christina Baehr: A light read full of dragons and mysteries and an inherited family castle. I’m rather older than the target age for this book, but it was a nice, wholesome story. This would make a great family read-aloud. The plot isn’t terribly original, but I appreciated the main character’s old-fashioned, articulate voice which gave the book a unique timeless feel despite it being modern. I have yet to read any other books in the series.

Remarkably Bright Creatures, by Shelby Van Pelt: I really enjoyed this one! Probably my second favorite on this list. I think I read it after The Covenant of Water, when I desperately needed a palate cleanser: something easy and happy. I would say this fit the bill pretty well. It’s a fun and interesting story partially narrated by an intellectual octopus, so that’s fun. :D The book was billed as another story for those who loved A Man Called Ove. I must say, the two novels are extremely similar in many ways. A lot of the themes, character personalities, and even some of the scenes felt downright stolen from Ove. But I did love both books.

The Memory Man, by David Baldacci: The same friend who suggested the Strike series also recommended these detective books. I didn’t find this as compelling as the Strike novels - the characters didn’t feel as likeable or relatable, and the writing seemed a bit more like a standard detective tale. The backstory is quite unique, as the detective in question is a savant, or someone who has a perfect memory. The author did a good job making his backstory and abilities seem credible. I might read the other books in the series and become more invested in them, who knows. But I did enjoy the book overall, especially once I got further into it. It’s probably in my top 3 on this list.

++++++++++++

A few miscellaneous reads and honorable mentions.

• Band of Brothers, by Stephen E. Ambrose: not finished - a little too technical and heavy on army lingo for my brain.

• Horse Soldiers, by Doug Stanton: currently reading and really enjoying. It’s well-written and more story-like than the above.

• The Promised One, by Nancy Guthrie: studying this for Women’s Bible Study at church; it’s been good!

• The Fellowship of the Ring, by J. R. R. Tolkien: nearly finished rereading but got bored. Inexcusable I know.

• The Bible: finished another reread of the whole Bible, which is exciting!

Shows & Movies

Gladiator: A classic I had never seen. It was well done and sad, but in a heroic and triumphant way. A good movie!

The Red Turtle: We had never watched this Ghibli movie, and it turns out, for good reason. My husband was like, “This is almost as sad as ‘Grave of the Fireflies’!” IYKYK. It’s all around a very weird movie. First of all, there’s basically no talking. Second, it’s a Ghibli movie so of course there are weird magical scenes juxtaposed with ordinary life. Third, it was extremely slow and kind of pointless? Fourth, IT WAS SO SAAAAD.

Conspiracy Theory: This was a wild ride! (Literally: Mel Gibson pulls a crazy wheelchair stunt in one scene, which reminded our friends to recommend this to us as a fitting movie while Sully used a wheelchair.) Told from the POV of an insane person, the whiplash plot keeps you guessing up until the very last scene. It is somehow intense, goofy, confusing, and genius at the same time.

C. B. Strike: Since I am now obsessed with the books, it figures I’d also watch the movies. :D I got Sully to watch them with me as a shorter way for him to appreciate the extremely long stories. He was initially begrudging, but by now really looks forward to watching them himself. The books are better. Heh. But the movies are good! And surprisingly, they don’t capitalize on the gore and graphic content like I was worried they would. Most of the seasons are not bad.

Inventing Anna: Our toddler pushed buttons on the remote and accidentally bought us a month of Netflix, haha. Unfortunately we didn’t really have anything to watch on there, so suggestions are more than welcome! I did end up watching this show on my own. It was quite unique and interesting. I appreciate “based on a true story” stuff. I also appreciated that the driving force of the plot wasn’t your typical romance or action sequences, but was a surprising exploration of the American elite and the influencer culture of today’s social media.

++++++++++++

I hope you enjoyed these reviews and found something new to read or watch! I’d love to hear your recent “stack” in the comments. :)

-Allison

On January 31st, my husband slipped while walking up an icy hill, thoroughly smashing his right ankle. The complexity of the fracture took us to 4 or 5 different hospitals, seeking the right doctors to put him back together again. He’s had two surgeries, culminating in nearly 20 screws being drilled into his bones. In between appointments, Sully has spent nearly all of his time laying on his back in bed, in varying degrees of pain.

The month following my daughter’s birth was another of the hardest of my life (likely the hardest). A combination of pain, stress, sleep deprivation, mental breakdowns, and unusual complications brought me to the utter end of myself time and again. The past weeks have been a strange sort of reverse déjà vu (if that’s even a possible combination of words). A year and a half ago, Sully was the one waiting on me hand and foot, caring for me and our tiny daughter with such gentleness and patience that I will cherish those memories forever. Now, I’m the one sitting beside the bed, and my husband is the one in it.

The pain Sully has gone through has been immense at times. And, as I’m sure many of you have experienced, the secondhand, vicarious pain of the caregiver is intense as well. There’s no greater helplessness than watching your loved one racked with horrific pain, screams and cries and prayers pouring from them like blood. Invisible shocks of pain travel through the hand clenched in your own as if the skin has become conductive.

Because whatever I’m dealing with is obviously SO much less difficult than Sully’s incredible ordeal, I sometimes feel I shouldn’t be struggling in the first place. I may have only gotten five hours of sleep, but that’s better than the one that Sully has gotten. I may feel overwhelmed by all of the responsibility laid on my shoulders, but at least I’m able to do things instead of being stuck in bed. I miss the days when Sully could come home from work to give Sophia a bath and put her to bed, but he misses it even more!

These are the things I tell myself as I try not to fall apart on the hard days. They’re quite true, and often a necessary way to get myself to suck it up and keep going. Plenty of people keep going through far, far harder things, whether as caregivers or as patients. Still, pain is not a competition. It does not need to be The Worst Pain Ever to still be valid and difficult.

Valid though it may be, my own responses to pressure and adversity are hard for me to swallow. One of the unpleasant parts of adversity is the way it reveals cracks in your own heart. Sully and Sophia have had to deal with constant hits to my patience and selflessness whenever I don’t get enough sleep (which is often, these days). Night after night on hard hospital beds or living room couches, lying awake with a sore neck, leads inevitably to weary days where overwhelm creeps up like a dark shadow and even the most basic tasks seem monumental. I hate the way exhaustion grows my selfishness, my fragility, my need to run away and hide and be alone and sleep until everything is bright again.

Even with sleep, very little of these tasks have been my forte: navigating to unknown hospitals in the dead of night; trying to advocate for Sully without knowing the right answer myself; making calls to wrangle the financial department or scheduling staff; and generally being forced into the position of leader - someone who is strong in the face of difficulty. And, as I recently bemoaned to my friends in a conversation about Minecraft, “I don’t want to fight monsters. I just want to make pretty things!”

I am not what you would call a strong, independent woman. I mean goodness, I’m not even physically strong enough to catch Sully if he falls while using his crutches! At least when I struggled through postpartum, I could rely on Sully to make the calls and decisions for me. Much of the time I feel so very inadequate, and there have been many times I’d just like to give up. But that’s not really an option.

When we first found out he had a bad break and not a sprain, I didn’t anticipate the level of care Sully would need. Talk about taking ordinary tasks for granted! A shower is out of reach for him, and he can’t even use our tiny, cramped bathroom because of the limited space and unnavigable angles. It’s crazy how complicated basic personal hygiene becomes when at least one leg must be resting on a bed for all but the shortest of times.

However… The way I’ve described our struggles so far has been quite misleading. Though I’ve felt alone at times, in reality our family, friends, neighbors, and church family have rallied around us. They’ve brought meals, stopped for frequent visits, picked up groceries, babysat our toddler, given generous financial gifts, driven to our house in the middle of the night for urgent rescue missions when Sully and I were at the end of ourselves, and prayed heaps of prayers we could feel in the darkest of nights.

I think God chooses to reveal Himself in different ways to different people. For some, it’s through a walk in the woods. For others, it’s a praise and worship song blasting on a car ride. One of the foremost ways I’ve felt His touch in my life has always been through human hands (and feet and hearts and faces). I could tell you many tales of how the Lord has proved His faithfulness through the love and care of His people. It breaks my heart to think of people suffering who not only don’t know the unchanging hope of Christ, but who don’t have a community of brothers and sisters doing His work on their behalf. If you are suffering alone, I encourage you to find a church full of imperfect but kind Christians, and let them pour Christ’s love into your life as they have into ours.

That is easier said than done, I know. Every time a trial comes, I have to learn once again how to accept help. I would generally call myself good at this because, as I said, I make no claims of strength or independence. I am well aware that I often need help, and lots of it. But when it comes down to it, I shrink from asking someone to run an errand for me when I could do it myself, even if doing it involves driving to Walmart and realizing I left my purse at the house in a fog of exhaustion. I don’t want to inconvenience people unnecessarily. And, especially in the case of financial gifts, my mind shouts that so many others need it more than we do.

To tell the truth, I’m really just treating others how I’d want to be treated - I’m often too selfish to jump at the chance to drop everything and spend a chunk of time unexpectedly helping someone else. I want it on the calendar, you know?!

But. The other side of accepting help is giving it, and I know that this too is a chance to feel blessed. I sense the desire in our friends and family to be useful, to do something worthwhile, to feel like they’re actively helping the situation become easier for us. I would feel the same way - I have felt the same way. And when I refuse help, I’m not only letting myself down, I’m letting the helper down too. Shared hardship bonds like nothing else. I can feel the closeness of our church family as they all pitch in. I love the smiles on my family’s face as they welcome Sophia into their homes to give me a break and a rest. It’s just better for everyone when I don’t try to do it all.

There is so much more I could say about all this, but if I don’t end this post soon, I’ll keep procrastinating and never get it out. So… I guess I’ll leave you with the sweet refrain of the repeating soundtrack of my life: the Lord walks with us in the valley, and sends His people to walk with us too. If you have helped us in some way over the past six weeks, we are so grateful and do NOT take you for granted. You inspire me to serve others the way you have served us, and remind me of how Christ has sacrificed everything His people. May we continue to bless others and learn to accept blessings ourselves.

~Allison

Because otherwise I’ll forget, right? And that’s unthinkable.

…Right?

This year I was once again gearing up for the intensive preparations required for my typical year-in-review post, when I realized… I don’t have to! The whole reason I started Substack was to limit the constant (if imaginary) pressure to make content I imagine other people want, whether I enjoy making or not. Now I get to decide when and whether to post. I’m even well within my rights to completely forego a yearly wrap-up post if I wish. (*gasp!*)

But instead of causing me to skip this post, that epiphany gave me permission to write it anyway, just on my preferred timeline and in whatever layout I wanted to. So, for the rest of this post, I want to reflect on both the biggest lesson learned and the biggest struggle of my 2025: improving in my capacity to rest, on the one hand, yet often feeling incredibly overstimulated and maxed-out on the other.

First, resting. My husband and I discussed the other evening our respective growth in 2025, and rest is the one that stood out in my life. I’ve gotten better at setting evenings aside to spend time with Sully and Sophia and to wind down. I rarely do Etsy work past supper, and try to get the housework pretty much done by then as well. After we put the baby to bed, my husband and I will often spend the evening playing Minecraft, watching YouTube together, enjoying a bedtime snack, reading, or talking.

As any small-business owner or self-employed person knows, boundaries are hard to draw, and work/life balance is a constantly moving target. The prospect of a slow, quiet evening at home gives me extra strength to make it through chaotic days. I’m grateful the Lord is teaching me slowly that my worth doesn’t lie in how many tasks I’ve checked off my list that day, and that rest is a beautiful and worthy thing.

Adjacent to pausing work at a certain time is prioritizing the important things: a.k.a. putting my family over and above my work. Having a small child dependent on me for care, comfort, and at least some amount of entertainment has done wonders to convince me of my weakness in this area! It will probably be a lifelong struggle of mine, but one I am absolutely capable of growing in. My husband shows me daily the beauty of putting people before projects by his genuine delight in playing with Sophia or spending time with me even after a long day at work, even when projects and deadlines weigh on his mind.

Another big lesson I’m learning is not to overstep my limits when I am working. There have been many moments of overwhelmed frustration brought on by trying to paint an Etsy order, listen to a podcast, and take care of a fussy child at the same time. I cannot do all three of those well and thoroughly at once!

I’m learning it’s better to work in silence for a while than to layer noises on top of each other (even fun and interesting noise like podcasts or audiobooks), resulting in overstimulation. It’s better to sacrifice maximum efficiency for additional sanity, i.e. to let Sophia happily “help” me sweep the floors though it will take twice as long. It’s better to take a break before my husband comes home if it keeps Sophia and I from being frazzled when we greet him. Sully has told me over and again that he much prefers coming home to two happy girls than to an early supper and folded laundry.

I have made several beneficial changes in pursuit of mental peace this year. One of the biggest ones has been severely limiting or even deleting apps that contribute to the scattered mental overload keeping me one toddler tantrum away from overwhelm.

One thing Sophia and I have both enjoyed is our practice of more-or-less daily walks around our neighborhood. We’ve made so many friends, met so many cute dogs and cats, and benefited from so much fresh air. Going outside has a way of putting your inner life in order. (To that end, walks area also a great time to pray.) In short, I highly recommend daily walks.

I haven’t deleted Instagram, but I hardly ever go on there, and when I do, I don’t stay long. I can feel immediately how exhausting and unhelpful it is for me. The very thought of regularly posting reels and trying to beat algorithms makes my chest tighten. I haven’t posted on my business account in ages, yet I’ve had probably the most successful holiday season in my shop’s history. (A little too successful for my mental health, but that’s another story.)

I also said a fond farewell to my long-standing personal blog. That was a huge step for me, since WordPress has been a big part of my life and free time for literally a decade. It has shaped me in wonderful ways, but I’m grateful I made the decision to create content at a slower pace here on Substack instead.

The fact that I’m no longer making long weekly posts has somewhat curbed my appetite for photography. I’m kinda sad about that, since I loved the motivation to capture beauty that regular sharing afforded me. On the other hand, as I keep coming back to, it has been unbelievably freeing to just live without constantly having to document what I see/make/do/remember! It’s not that I’ve stopped recording my life: I still have a short daily journal, collect phone videos into a yearly movie, occasionally art journal, and take photos with phone and camera. That’s just, surprisingly, waaay less documentation than I used to do.

Finally, I’ve decluttered various other aspects of my digital existence: deleted distracting phone games, gave myself permission not to keep up with YouTube/Substack/Wordpress subscriptions, and turned notifications to silent. So much more peaceful! And this might be leaning into digital side of things rather than away, but I’ve also benefited from listening to the Bible while I work on art projects rather than having a set hour and minute I sit down and read it. It just fits my days better. (And my husband and I still read the Bible together before bed.)

With that, I’m going to wrap up this wrap-up. Here’s to another year of growing in faith and love. Here’s to accepting rest, to pursuing mental peace, to living in freedom from the imagined expectations of strangers, to putting people before projects, and to putting Christ before all.

~Allison

Scene I: Mist over Main Street

The fog parts softly, magically: each scene a gift unwrapping. Night stains the mist gray, punctuated by golden cones of color swirling under streetlights. Papa John’s appears out of the white gloom, its marquee dim in the blurred air. Red and green reflections streak the wet pavement under each stoplight. Every storefront on Main Street bears festive window paintings, soft string lights, or red and green boutique clothing.

The road is empty in this small town on a Sunday night. The car is full, full of a sleeping baby and singing driver and thoughtful passenger and carols of the season. My husband’s strong, glad voice joins with the canned ones on the speaker, wrapping my heart like the greenery and lights wrapping every lamppost, illuminating the sure way home.

Scene II: Packages at the Post Office

Of course the line is long today, just when I have no time to lose. I feel on the verge of panic, desperate to please the strangers who paid me to brighten their Christmases with watercolored memories. Two elderly women in front of me fumble with their packages. One asks if FedEx is a good choice, and the woman behind the desk shakes her head expressively, biting back an inaudible reply. In my haste, I had printed a label with the wrong address at home. I now hold the package under one arm while fishing a pen out of my purse, printing the correct address as neatly as I can while my bag tries to slide off my shoulder.

When it’s finally my turn, I hold my breath, wondering if my package will be accepted. It is… but it shouldn’t have been. I will later spend a panic-stricken hour remediating my mistake after another customer receives the overnighted package with understandable confusion. I will question my desire to be an artist at all, will wish to hibernate in a hole for the remainder of the year, and will instead endure several more stabs of distress as customers continue to message me about lost packages, broken ornaments, and requests for refunds. Not everything is my fault, of course, but it feels that way. It feels, just now, closing the post office door behind a rapidly-expanding line of people, as if my entire Christmas season has been an exercise in assuming responsibility for mistakes I did and did not make, and a reminder of the dire consequences resulting from my inability to say “no.”

Scene III: First Snow of Winter

“No!” my daughter shouts with glee, the world white and cold around her. A flurry of “no-flakes” race to reach her button nose and long lashes. She patters to the gathering icy layer on our porch, curiosity and joy shining unabashed from her eyes. I leave her with her daddy, my camera slung over my shoulder, eyes wide with awe at the silent beauty.

When was the last time I witnessed a snowfall like this one? One so meticulously highlighting every needled branch, transforming to ridged crystal every brittle stalk? The perennial puddles at the street corner have turned to solid silver. Snow, like fog, muffles all sharp-edged noise with its soothing pale hand. My heart fills with the best kind of loneliness: a still and quiet peace amid this breathless, glittering world.

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Scene IV: Carols at the Retirement Home

I’m ashamed of the pain it causes me to walk among these ruined bodies. Faces so distorted by age and pain they look like caricatures, bodies so emaciated the slim weight of a smile seems unsupportable by the sharp bones beneath. The air is heavy with (determinedly suppressed) smells that make up the last, slow exhale of life. As our group walks the halls, caroling beloved hymns, one room assails us with loud, convulsive yells. Wheelchairs gather at intersections, faces light up and heads nod in time, hands clap as we finish a song.

One couple waves at us from the very end of the row. The woman is white-haired, blue-eyed, a fragile smile on her face. Her husband stands behind her, solid and alert, arms wrapped protectively around her thin waist, a yellow Vietnam Vet cap on his balding head. Our little group stops to sing one carol after another, the notes drawing tears from the little woman’s eyes as she listens. Her thanks are effusive, broken in her joy. Her husband rests his chin lovingly against her hair, telling us it makes him happy to see her glow like this. At last we leave them to their lonely room where they live in sickness and in health, and make our way outside.

Scene V: Song of the Stable

The thin clouds over a large and brilliant star part softly: the scene below unfolds like a gift unwrapping. Night stains the weathered door as darkly as blood stains the straw inside. Every house is dark. The nearby inn is packed with travelers and quiet with sleep. The low stable building is full too, full of clouded breaths snorting from damp nostrils, the stamping of hooves, the twitching of coarse tails. Warm muzzles snuffle curiously at two figures bent low in their midst: one strong and alert, his arms wrapped protectively around the still-swollen waist of the other, whose long hair sticks close to her face, damp and sweaty despite the snowy chill to the air.

Although they have just experienced the greatest pain of their short lives, their faces do not look upset. They instead appear bathed in a deep, glowing joy. Inaudible notes of some sweet music are drawing tears from the little woman’s eyes, the drops racing to touch the tiny nose and fine lashes of the little babe, looking up with that unearthly newborn wonder at a world too busy to notice his arrival. The depth to His wide eyes is startling, almost as if they contain a universe of thought, action, love. Almost as if they’re pondering a future where He takes responsibility for mistakes He did not make, where He refuses to say “no” to the glory and agony of that masterful plan, dire though the consequence may be. Almost as if His very coming heralds a brighter peace than snowfall, a surer support than human arms, a greater gift than fog unfurled, and a deeper joy than any unwrapped package.

Several fields away, a host of strong, glad voices wrap around the hearts of gathered listeners below, the night sky dazzling with glory, their song illuminating forever the sure way Home.

On the other hand, I’ve become grateful that I, and society at large, do consider others, at least some of the time. Because a few items on this list are ones I’m not proud of.

Today I wanted to share my list with you, and encourage you to come up with one of your own. Questions to get you started: if something you wanted wasn’t wrong or unwise, but people would judge you for it, would you still pursue it? What risks would you take if you weren’t afraid to apologize for the mistakes you’d make along the way? How would your life change if you didn’t long for other’s approval for the way you dress, the way you talk, the way you laugh?

This is what my life would look like - some good, and some bad. Many of these things I already do to some extent. And some I sure wish I could claim.

30 Things I’d Do If I Didn’t Care What People Thought

1. Lay outside on the grass and read in odd positions without feeling self-conscious about passing cars.

2. Write what I want to write without worrying if people will read it.

3. Wear my 6-year old, out-of-style skinny jeans and thrifted shirts with confidence, even among my more fashionable friends.

4. Host a neighborhood party.

5. Stop forcing myself to post on Instagram because it’s good for business, or out of obligation to share cute/pretty photos lest they be “wasted.”

6. Talk too much, too loudly, and without waiting for a break in conversation.

7. Nix self-enforced deadlines for personal goals when they stress me rather than help me.

8. Strike up conversations or greetings with strangers or casual acquaintances.

9. Ask the hard questions. Battle the elephants in the room. Go deeper.

10. Share with others the hope and joy I have found in Christ, regardless of whether I think they’ll judge me.

11. Cook and bake more often without a recipe. Experiment with new ingredients. Risk getting a little too creative in the kitchen.

12. Say no to all things that seem hard or outside my comfort zone.

13. Compliment people of the opposite gender without worrying how they took it.

14. Have a homebirth for my next baby.

15. Read my poems in public.

16. Price my work so that it’s worth my time.

17. Leave the windows open even when my baby is screaming inside without worrying that my neighbors will think I’m a bad mom.

18. Share deep thoughts and struggles on a public place like Substack which my family can read.

19. Sing on the streets, in the store, with the windows rolled down.

20. Stay glued to my phone even when my husband or baby need me.

21. Buy clothes I find cute and wear them even if they’re inconsistent with my usual style.

22. Randomly decide to wear nice makeup to events I usually don’t dress up as much for.

23. Use fewer exclamation points and emojis in emailing/texting.

24. Let my baby take off her socks and shoes in the stroller even on chilly days.

25. Give honest feedback that is kind but not sugar-coated.

26. Stay home instead of going for walks or visiting neighbors.

27. Bring along a book or a craft project to occupy my time while waiting for appointments.

28. Rest without feeling guilty.

29. Rest and procrastinate when I should be working.

30. Stop feeling responsible for other people’s happiness (!).

And there you have it. That’s my starter list. I’m sure I’ll think of more in the future. Do any of these resonate with you? What would be at the top of *your* list?

~Allison

Recent Reads

I recently rediscovered how amazing libraries are! My local library doesn’t have as wide a selection as I’d like, but I found some good stories I’ve been enjoying that I wanted to share with you, in no particular order.

1. The Zookeeper’s Wife, by Diane Ackerman

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★★★☆☆

I’m still in the middle of this one, so my review is not final! I wanted to go ahead and share my thoughts on it so far. This is WWII historical fiction set in a Polish zoo(!). I love the unique cultural details of Poland’s traditions and flora/fauna the author weaves throughout.

One thing I’m not a fan of is the odd perspective: a mix of narrative documentary, third-person POV, and and first-person letter quotations that makes it hard for me to get into the flow of the book. I’m curious to see how this book unfolds and whether I end up really loving this one.

2. Becoming Mrs. Lewis, by Patti Callahan

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★★★★☆

I’d never read the backstory of C. S. Lewis and Joy Davidman’s marriage before, so this was fascinating and full of insights into one of my favorite author’s lives. The writing style was overly dramatic at times and I found the main character’s inner voice a tad whiny, but the story was gripping and moving, with an interesting mix of historical fiction and excerpts from their actual letters.

I would have preferred to dwell less on the constant sexual tension of being attracted to someone you’re not allowed to marry and more on other aspects of this story... That got a bit exhausting and unpleasant. But it did serve to illustrate the way different characters grappled with putting their theology/worldviews into practice.

3. Stowaway: the Disreputable Exploits of the Rat, by Joe Shute

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★★★⯪☆

This is not the type of book I usually pick up, which made for an interesting read. The author basically makes a case for why rats should fascinate us rather than repulse us, though he covers the repulsive and dangerous aspects of their lives as well. I learned a lot of interesting things (did you know rats can sniff out TB samples and landmines faster than humans or machines?!) and did come away with something of a respect for these creatures.

However, I did not agree with the author’s seeming underlying conclusion that rats are more or less people too. He sometimes came across as caring more for rats’ wellbeing than for the humans around him which seems backwards to me. The pacing was also rather scattered without a very clear overarching outline or direction. Still, an interesting non-fiction read!

4. The Nightingale, by Kristin Hannah

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★★★★⯪

WWII historical fiction novels are a dime a dozen it seems, but despite falling into a lot of predictable aspects of this contemporary genre, it covered covered a unique part of the war I’d never read much about: the exploits of a heroic young girl nicknamed “The Nightingale” who saved many downed airmen with her flamboyant courage and determination.

It was EXTREMELY heavy, sad, and depressing (spoiler alert: lots of people die), but so is war, so I guess that’s to be expected. I felt it was a bit slow to start with but by the end I was fully invested in the characters and intrigued by a few plot twists. If you like intense WWII novels, you’ll probably enjoy this one!

5. Persuasion, by Jane Austen

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★★★★☆

One of Jane Austen’s classics I had not yet read. I liked how the governing relationship plot/trope was more creative than her typical classic romances. Indeed, with Austen’s signature sly wit and self-aware humor, she thwarts out loud the immediate predictions of the reader (“He was not Mr. Wentworth… however suspicious appearances may be”). You have to love a good fourth wall moment.

As you’ll find with many of the classics (and Austen’s books specifically), there are plenty of quotable lines and amusing dialogues to carry you through a book whose pace may seem a drag compared to contemporary literature. If you haven’t yet read this Austen book, I do recommend it!

6. The Scapegoat, by Daphne du Maurier

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★★★★★

This book still haunts me weeks after reading it. It has an almost Gothic quality to it, fitting well into a gloomy winter or autumn day. The basic concept is like that of The Prince and the Pauper: two identical men swap roles, and thus, lives, for a period of time.

But this is a much more grown-up version, with intense psychological quandaries, razor-sharp observations into human character, and the agonizing tension of hiding in plain sight that grips you, overriding the slightly slower, introspective pacing of this older book. It is masterfully written and, like I said, will stick with you long after you turn the last page.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Shows & Movies

My husband and I always have a hard time finding something to watch since we have very different tastes in movies. We’ll often try out an anime show because that meets in the middle for us (though I’m not necessarily an anime fan overall). We got Netflix for one month and then accidentally for two, and made the most of the subscription by watching lots of shows in early autumn.

1. 3 Body Problem

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★★★★★

Starting off with my favorite on this list, which is a surprise because it is not the sort of show I’m usually drawn to: analytical, intellectual science fiction. It’s the type of sci-fi that takes itself very seriously, not one filled with fluffy green monsters. Set alternately in China and America, the story follows a group of scientists who encounter a series of high-stakes mysteries leading to the discovery of an alternate universe. So interesting and well-done! Absolutely tons of language, but hardly any sexual content, which is my preferred ratio if I had to choose. :)

2. Frieren

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★★★★⯪

My husband and I started this anime because it looked pretty, but found the first few episodes rather uninteresting. However, we stuck with it and discovered a much more engaging plot that we enjoyed watching unfold. It’s still a fairly cozy comfort film, with an interesting take on your stereotypical elves and dwarves adventure story. And yes, it is also incredibly beautiful.

3. My Happy Marriage

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★★★☆☆

Hahaha I’m still not sure what to think of this one. We also considered quitting this show after a few episodes because the main character is extremely annoying, but stuck with it and again eventually found a more interesting plot beginning to develop. It was still rather cringey and annoying much of the time, but did have some interesting sections. I’d watch more episodes if I didn’t have anything else on my list.

4. Mary & the Witch’s Flowers

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★★★⯪☆

We picked this as an alternative to a Ghibli movie, which Netflix sadly does not offer in the U.S. It was definitely Ghibli-esque in many ways, from its gorgeous animation and fantastic creatures to its fever-dream transitions. But the plot was much more cliche than a Ghibli movie. Still a fairly cute and fun film in my opinion.

5. Apothecary Diaries

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★★★★★

My husband and I loved watching this show and are looking forward to the next season. It is filled with what we call “marriage humor,” so not a great family option, but excellent for curling up with your husband while the baby is sleeping. :) The heroine is unique, in my opinion: an intelligent, cool, and unemotional girl unwillingly drawn into solving mysteries and quieting relationship dramas in the king’s outer palace/harem, serving his concubines and occasionally testing his meals for poison. Definitely a fun one!

6. KPop Demon Hunters

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★★★★⯪

My husband and I went into this thinking “how can this be any good?” but were shocked by how moving we found it! Surprisingly deep for a kid’s animated movie, it explores the topic of shame, cultural pressure, and personal identity in unexpectedly thought-provoking ways. And the music is very catchy, as probably everyone knows by now.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

That’s it for my list of recent picks! Now I’d love to hear what you have been reading or watching recently. I need more recommendations! :D

~Allison

Gone are the cursive and spelling bees. This world likes sans serif and ChatGPT. Every gridded square bears opportunity or disunity, but never severs the name you claim: all can be deleted, repeated, changed to blame a chain reaction – you never meant to cause a faction. It was just a call to action.

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These thousand chances may wear as garish and faux, noosed glittering ropes of plastic flashing gems. Kings of the future, we tread secure in our backspace blankets, consoled by the sovereign power of forgotten passwords reset in placid succession like the breaking of an endless dawn.

But, you must agree, these thousand chances also taste cream-rich, an abundance of treasure not hoarded, most generously spread. Inspiration need not be held close to the chest when the chest so cheerfully overflows. What a world, where mistakes are kindly winked away and the film strip never runs out! What a life, to feed on always greener grasses!

But truly, that is the world we live on. The world we live in is not so generous. We live in a world of second chances, relatively often; third chances, every quartered clover; and merely single shots if it’s an ordinary day.

The truth is, when you look down for three seconds (too long), traffic will not pause the game to let you log back on. If you knock that inky jar, no double tap will save your ruined art. When your words chase off the heart of a friend, no Ctrl+Z will shave the hanging daggers from your bleeding lips.

Well, and after all, which world would you choose? Would you choose ten heart-plunging seconds between the doorbell’s ring and the first meeting with, as it unfolds, the love of your life? Or would you choose a passive platform to numbly buffer the venom in between your teeth?

Would you choose to take their pictures, or choose to cause their realest smiles? Would you reset your basement treadmill, or take a morning walk down Main Street, brushed by stranger’s eyes and held by noisy silence?

Would you (imagine it for a moment), could you choose a bruised fall to the top, a costly made-it moment, a risky call, a dimmer midnight but a million million stars?

Would you (asked another way), could you turn the in-world quite as glitter-joyed as the on-world feels? Could you chase the danger of scraped knees and bumbled sentences, prancing dogs and dying leaves… could you chase it like you want to catch it to hold ripe and tender against the hollow of your throat?

Could you locate your heart between your ribs, dimensional and thumping, and cast away the flat red kind that fills by thoughtless touch? Could you step outside and open wide your eyes and treasure it all in the mind’s deep well to later share with the friend down the street and not the friend on the screen? What’s more, could I?

And when you hold the cards, how many chances will you now deal out? May I suggest… Give them your treasure hoard. Bid them taste life’s sharpest pleasures. Let them dance with their clinking pearls. Let them come back, again and again and again. Though it may feel too dearly cheap, just let them win.

~Allison

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If you’re looking for fun and productive ways to fill the upcoming cozy season, I hope you find this little review of ten of my favorite pastimes inspiring.

{Note: affliate links included below. Thanks for supporting my writing!}

1. B O O K B I N D I N G

Books aren’t something you usually think about DIY-ing, so making one feels extra impressive. It’s also relaxing for someone who finds tedious tasks therapeutic. I have made a grand total of one book, but YOU GUYS IT TURNED OUT SO… REAL.

You can get fancy tools to make the process more official, but I made a perfectly aesthetic journal with only paper, a sewing needle + strong thread, Elmer’s glue, scissors, scrap cardboard, pretty paper, and scrap fabric.

Ideas to Inspire: Imagine gifting a beautiful journal with the recipient’s favorite colors on the cover and their name written on the handpicked endpapers. Imagine printing out or typewriting your Substack essays and binding them into your very own book.

Resources: PearFleur has several beautiful and useful bookbinding videos including this one which I very loosely followed.

2. C R O C H E T

{See also: knitting.}

Crochet is such a relaxing hobby, able to be enjoyed while multitasking or when lacking energy. If you learn how to read patterns, you’ll have limitless projects to create! And useful, practical projects at that!

You can learn foundational skills in less than an hour, and even a couple of basic stitches can take you far. Yarn can be quite expensive, so I recommend checking thrift stores or even making your own yarn from old t-shirts.

Ideas to Inspire: Imagine turning a bin of scrap yarn into a cozy throw blanket. Imagine creating a warm winter hat for your little one.

Resources: If you have a friend who knows how to crochet, consider asking them over for tea, cookies, a tutorial. You can find plenty of videos on YouTube too - this one looks helpful.

3. W A T E R C O L O R P A I N T I N G

{See also: any type of art.}

There’s truly nothing like seeing a beautiful scene in your mind’s eye (or actual eye) and being able to bring that to life on a piece of paper. You can do so much with this skill, from handmade cards to customized art prints. It’s is also extremely therapeutic as an open-ended art form.

Watercolor may require a steeper learning curve than other forms of art if you’re not used to handling a paintbrush. But with some practice and a few tutorials, you’ll be on a roll! My recommendation is to buy decent supplies—dollar store versions will cause frustrations.

Ideas to Inspire: Imagine sitting on your porch with a watercolor palette and filling your page with the colors you see around you. Imagine painting your friend’s pet for a birthday gift.

Resources: Rebel Unicorn Crafts shares short, beginner-friendly tutorials. This is a quality beginner watercolor palette and my favorite nice watercolor paper. Visit my Etsy shop to see some of my watercolor work, including the mini landscapes above.

4. P I A N O P L A Y I N G

{See also: Playing any type of musical instrument.}

It’s magical to me that I can look at a page of dots and turn them into music! Learning to read music is similar to learning a language and grows your mental capacity in similar ways. I’d say piano is one of those skills that at first is just hard work, but if pursued long enough can become a rewarding hobby.

Besides being great medium for self-expression, playing a musical instrument is a wonderful way to bring joy to others. Fifteen years of practice has allowed me to volunteer on my church’s music team most weeks, which is a great way to both serve and polish up my skills.

Ideas to Inspire: Imagine playing hymns at a retirement home, the residents tapping their toes with smiles on their faces. Imagine pouring your swirling emotions into a stirring composition and feeling a renewed sense of composure yourself.

Resources: My piano teacher used some of these Piano Adventure books, many of which could be used to teach yourself. I enjoy playing hymn arrangements from this book.

5. E M B R O I D E R Y

{See also: cross stitching.}

If you find detail work relaxing but you get frustrated by machines, embroidery is a great hobby to pick up. You have direct control over the needle and thread and can learn so many interesting and beautiful stitches. It’s similar to crochet in that you can do it while you’re watching a show, talking to your husband, or feeling low on energy.

My favorite thing to embroider is clothes! It’s a fun, long-lasting way to level up boring jeans or t-shirts.

Ideas to Inspire: Mend a hole in your jeans by embroidering a tiny mushroom. Imagine stitching a favorite quote into cottagecore wall art.

Resources: Pinterest is a great place to look up types of stitches. Here’s a good article for a supply list. I shared some of my embroidery projects in this post.

6. V I S U A L J O U R N A L I N G

{See also: written journaling, nature journaling, art journaling, junk journaling.}

You could look back through thousands of phone photos… or you could flip through pages of a handmade scrapbook. Visual journaling turns memories into something tangible. I love to junk journal, which centers on paper odds and ends: a fortune cookie wrapper, a receipt from a cute store, a card from your niece…

Over my years of journaling, I’ve filled several books with memories and ephemera. I love that journaling is wide-open, flexible, without rules. You can’t really mess it up, you can only be more or less happy with the results. It’s a beautiful form of self-expression and memory preservation.

Ideas to Inspire: Imagine secretly filling a journal with memories and ephemera, then gifting it to your partner on a special anniversary. Imagine having a meaningful place to put all those cards and memorabilia instead of stuffing them in a box.

Resources: Johanna Clough’s channel is full of whimsical junk journaling inspiration. I’ve also shared many journal spreads on my blog, like in this post. I often use Cut+Paste magazine for journaling.

7. P H O T O G R A P H Y

Camera photography helps me slow down and notice the tiny details I might otherwise pass by. I have to study angles, observe light, look for extraordinary subjects in the ordinary... Learning to capture beauty has a way of making life itself feel more beautiful. And it’s a wonderful way to preserve memories, of course.

I have done multiple paid shoots, but mainly for friends. I like to say I’m a professional amateur. :) I most often take photos for Substack/blog posts, or to remember special moments.

Ideas to Inspire: Imagine taking a walk with your camera instead of your phone. Imagine filling your walls with family photos you took yourself.

Resources: Pinterest has a ton of good entry-level photography articles, like this one. Here’s a blog post I made years ago talking about the more creative aspects and techniques of photography.

8. L E T T E R I N G

{See also: calligraphy.}

Lettering is therapeutic for me. You don’t need many tools and don’t have to use much mental power since you’re mainly selecting a pretty style for pre-decided words rather than imagining an entire picture. It’s surprisingly useful to be the person with pretty handwriting—I’ve gotten called on to letter signs for weddings, cards and invitations, blackboards for events, name cards for dinners, etc.

Some types of lettering, like calligraphy take special tools and tons of practice to perfect. But many cute fonts can be learned in minutes, using any sort of writing/painting utensil.

Ideas to Inspire: Imagine lettering each guest’s place card in pretty script for your next dinner party. Imagine addressing your wedding invitations yourself in fancy calligraphy.

Resources: Pinterest is once again your friend here. This is a good article on faux brush lettering. I made a (pretty cringe but still decently helpful) hand lettering course years ago which you can find here.

9. P E N P A L - I N G

A handwritten letter is a million times more exciting (and aesthetic!) to receive than a text. You’re able to bless the recipient with the thought and time you put into it, and envelopes can be filled with other goodies like photos, stickers, tea bags, etc. as well as letters. It’s also almost like journaling to write down your thoughts and receive updates on friends’ lives in return.

If you’re trying to cut out social media and phone apps, sending letters is a great way to connect with people in a more tangible way. It’s also a fun hobby for kids (and grandparents love it too).

Ideas to Inspire: Imagine running out to the mailbox to find a beautifully decorated package with your name on it instead of just bills and junk mail. Imagine collecting little goodies to tuck into a letter to a friend.

Resources: I have a number of inspiring pen pal posts on my blog (if I do say so myself), including The Ultimate List of Pen Pal Ideas. This one is filled with questions & prompts if you’re at a loss for what to write.

10. S E W I N G

I’ve made many quilts and small projects and have recently sewn some clothes, but sewing often tries my patience: sewing machines seem to share DNA with printers in that they can’t seem to go long without breaking down… But hand sewing is a great option for many projects too.

I definitely want to teach my kids the basics of sewing because it’s a great life skill to have. Especially mending, sewing buttons, and simple tailoring can carry you far (and save money).

Ideas to Inspire: Imagine turning old t-shirts and baby clothes into a sentimental quilt. Imagine whipping up seasonal pillowcases to change up your home decor.

Resources: Sewing is another skill probably best learned in person—call up your grandma and ask if you can come over and learn from her. This free dress pattern is one of my first clothing projects and it taught me a LOT. I shared some of my sewing projects in this post.

M O R E C R E A T I V E H O B B I E S I ’ V E T R I E D

• Flower Arranging

• Polymer Clay Miniatures

• Cooking

• Sourdough Baking

• Graphic Design

• Interior Decorating

• Nature Journaling

• Wreathmaking

• Writing

• Gardening

• Canning/Preserving

• Jewelry Making

• Digital Art

• Paper Marbling

• Furniture Painting/Restoration

So, did I inspire you to start a new hobby? What are some of your current favorite hobbies? I’m open to suggestions! :D

~Allison

She also brings a small thermos full of homemade miso soup for me and my friend. We sip spoonfuls of the warm broth as she snuggles her chubby-cheeked baby and teaches us animal sounds in Mandarin (a dog says “wong, wong,” I am delighted to learn). I wonder what it would be like to move to China, then Canada, then this ordinary small town.

// The lady next door is from Mexico, but calling her “lady” seems odd because she’s the same age as I am. The day before her trip, we both stretch a fitted sheet over her guest bed and fold her laundry while our daughters play on the floor. We talk and laugh, interrupted by “despacito, despacito!” and “don’t play with the folded shirts, honey.”

She loans me magazines full of thoughtful articles and sends me home with a bag full of produce from Farmer John. If you need a “stop by for a stick of butter,” “I’ll take the dirty plate,” “compare postpartum bellies” kind of friend, she’s your girl. It has been two months since she moved here, and she already seems to know the town and its people better than I do.

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// The bicycle lady rides a yellow bike and sports a thin braid and ever-present faded orange t-shirt with holes at the shoulder. She’s probably in her 70s, with a heart a fraction of that age. That’s what riding 15-20 miles every morning does for you, I suppose.

Whenever she sees us, she throws up a hand and calls out in a high, happy voice. After we have chatted a bit, she always sings my baby a song, sometimes two. The first time Sophia blew a kiss, it was to the bicycle lady, who blew one back.

// A dear elderly couple just up the road from us has unofficially adopted Sophia as their granddaughter, and now worry about us if we haven’t visited for over a week. Today we walk into their kitchen where a tiny cube-shaped TV displays two older women trying to look young, comparing which makeup best hides wrinkles.

We watch through the window as the husband and his friend attempt to let a skunk out of a trap without getting sprayed. Surprisingly, they succeed. When he comes back inside, I sit on the faded red gingham sofa and ask about their latest trips to the hospital. The wife again lists off the ingredients for her favorite Weight Watcher’s spaghetti salad and gives me a small container of it to carry home for lunch.

// I hate being the shopper who drives by the homeless man sprawled in the Walmart parking lot without doing anything but making excuses (valid ones, quite possibly, but still). He is slumped on the pavement with legs straight in front of him, his hoodie drawn tightly over his face, the opening puckered like a mouth without dentures. He has carefully arranged two overlapping umbrellas above his head to keep out the uncertain rain and the certain stares.

Yesterday he wasn’t here and tomorrow probably won’t be either. It reminds me of a graffiti message on a white garage.

// “Broken,” it says in puffy red letters. Underneath is scrawled “I don’t want to stay.” No one knows who vandalized the abandoned building a block from our house, but there is now someone who would like to.

My friend said she woke in the middle of the night when their motion sensing light flipped on. The next morning, three police were at the scene of the crime. As an artist, it makes me cringe to call it a crime. Per their message, they did not stay, obviously. The police found no evidence.

// Every time I go on a walk around my neighborhood, my heart is struck again by the sheer amount of souls, of living, breathing stories growing and unraveling around me. The smell of someone smoking weed at the bus stop, the call of a mother to her small children, the straining of a dog on a leash, the slam of a car door driven home from work… Some days I want to hide away from all of it (re: The Middle of Somewhere), but most days I am grateful to exist alongside these dear hearts.

I’ll keep collecting names, observing smiles, and putting the pieces together in hopes that my little waves and smiles will get through to them. Because you exist, you matter. Because you smiled back, you live in my heart whether you know it or not. You are seen, noticed, loved. And you are not taken for granted.

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Growing up, I always thought September was the beginning of fall. But where I live now, autumn doesn’t truly arrive until mid-October. The mornings have finally begun crisping and cooling, and it’s now the season of three outfits per day since lows are in the 40s and highs are in the 70s (and then back to the 50s again).

Substack probably doesn’t need another “October starter pack” post, but I’m going to make one anyway because I feel like it! I want to share some of the books, music, and recipes I’ve been enjoying recently. Also! I painted a free sticker sheet for you to print out and use, so don’t miss that at the end of the post. :)

S I G N S O F T H E S E A S O N

• stacks of pastel pumpkins and beaded Indian corn

• the slow top-down blaze of fall trees

• happy mushrooms springing out of damp earth

• simultaneous crackling of leaves, book pages, and a fireplace

• cats curled in laps

• porch steps laden with enormous chrysanthemums

• kitchens warmed with soup simmering on the stove

• an entire party of acorn confetti under every oak tree

• the kind of blue skies Crayola names markers after

• seasonal produce in rich oranges and creamy golds

• fuzzy socks and cozy sweaters and layers upon layers

• steam rising from a favorite mug

• comforting crafts and hobbies on rainy days

• slim squirrels hurrying to stock their pantries

• dewy silver spiderwebs at dawn and feathery moths at dusk

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O C T O B E R P I C K S

READING: Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy || I consider myself fairly well-read in the classics, but I’d never picked up this one until a friend noticed it on my bookshelf. It turns out that some aesthetic-looking old books can be good for reading as well as display! (The copy we have is very nice to look at, though. Book printers in 1918 really knew what they were doing.)

I was surprised by how modern the plot was in many ways - a dramatic romance with a love-triangle, except with three competing lovers… What does one call that? A love… square? Anyway, the writing style is definitely that of the old classics: beautiful, if somewhat flowery, descriptive passages; witty, if somewhat long-winded narration; and deep insights into the human psyche of the characters it portrays.

If you like sheep, rolling hills, pining lovers, witty narration, wholesome devotion, clean romance, English countryside, tragic plot twists, and happy endings, you might like this book.

I’ve heard the movie is pretty good but have not watched it as yet. Have you?

LISTENING: “Jesus” album by Jon Guerra || My husband and I listened to this on a Sunday drive home recently and we both loved it. Richly woven with gospel Scriptures, profound poetry, and soft music, this album is a perfect contemplative backdrop for a day of journaling, reading, walking, or fall baking.

Jon Guerra has a way of framing gut-punching truths in a gentle, understated way that lets the message sneak into your heart and settle in before you ever realize the door was opened. He has a lot of other good music as well. I love “Tightrope” and “American Gospel.”

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COOKING: Butternut Squash Soup || An autumn classic! I used the recipe linked, but with several modifications including substituting butternut squash for pumpkin puree and adding a can of tomato sauce to balance the sweetness with tangy acidity. I topped it with a swirl of yogurt (could use sour cream), a shake of Parmesan cheese, and a sprinkle of thyme & cracked pepper. I served it alongside grilled cheese made with crusty, fresh-baked sourdough; plus homemade sauerkraut (I like to use a mix of shredded carrots and cabbage).

Other recipes I’ve made to feature the autumn harvest procured from the produce auction:

• Cheesy Spaghetti Squash Casserole || I actually liked this better than the soup! I added frozen broccoli and about a pound of sausage. So flavorful and comforting. You can’t go wrong with a dish slathered in cheese.

• Roasted Potatoes & Sweet Potatoes || I like to cut a mix of potatoes into small cubes, drizzle them with olive oil, and sprinkle with salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, thyme, and—the secret ingredient—smoked paprika. Bake at 400F for 45-60 minutes, or until slightly crispy. My sweet potatoes were so fresh I left the skin on to crisp up nicely like regular potato skin.

• Glazed, Roasted Eggplant || Okay so I didn’t really follow that recipe since I eyed the measurements and didn’t use miso or mirin… But the other ingredients made a delicious sauce! I wouldn’t have thought to put soy sauce and eggplant together, but it was yummy.

• Pumpkin Bread || (Or butternut squash bread.) I haven’t actually found the ultimate pumpkin bread recipe. The one I used wasn’t a huge success, though it was still yummy. If you have a favorite version to share with me, do tell!

F A L L S T I C K E R S H E E T

I spend most of my creative energy as an artist fulfilling orders for my Etsy shop rather than drawing just for fun. But now I have a Substack! And I’m more motivated to share art on here than on Instagram, at least for the time being. So the other day I painted a little sticker sheet to share with you guys. :)

If you a have a decent printer and inexpensive sticker paper (aff. link here), you can make your own sticker sheets whenever you want. Just cut around each element and craft away! I’m planning to use these in my journal and pen pal letters here soon.

Save/download the image below if you like! Totally free, but for personal use only please.

Well, it’s time to get baby girl up from her nap, so I’ll end the post here. I wish you all a bright and beautiful October. And I’d love to hear your own fall picks in the comments!

~Allison

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Only in the last three years have I lived in the middle of somewhere. Before then, I lived on my family’s farm, our house padded with a deluxe-sized bumper (crop) separating us from any neighboring windows of peer-able proximity.

Yet now, as I type this, a neighbor honks at me as they drive past, probably wondering why I am sitting on my porch floor with a laptop in my lap. It’s a legitimate question, especially considering the two metal chairs to my left (one of which is appealingly draped with the blanket my baby and I use for picnics). I have instead opted to curl up on the welcome mat on the concrete floor.

Even that might be understandable if you’ve ever tried sitting in the aforementioned bony metal chairs, except this is not a plush welcome mat. More like one of those acupuncture situations I see advertised by influencers on social media – what is it called? A Pranamat or something? Instead there’s a prickly straw rug digging into my ankles. I can feel the stress leaving my body already…

I would, however, feel even more at peace were I writing this in the middle of nowhere again. Perhaps I would have taken a pen and notebook instead of my laptop. Yes, I can imagine packing all my supplies into a pretty lily-of-the-valley tote bag and heading to the woods at my parents’ farm. I’d scuffle through the leaves until I found a sufficiently mossy knoll under a September-toasted tree, settle into the silence, and click open my juiciest ballpoint pen. Were I writing this in the middle of nowhere with no distractions, no screens, and no strangers, the words would flow freely and I’d finally be able to think in poems again.

That’s what I tell myself anyway.

I tell myself I’m just thirsty for air clear of car noise and inopportune small talk. That I am burdened with the possible stares of a hundred strangers, instead of a half-dozen songbirds and one obnoxiously attentive labrador retriever. I wonder in my head if originality is futile in the age of ChatGPT. I tell myself that creativity would be easier without the screens, the asphalt, the baby about to wake up from her nap.

Let’s be real, those tales I tell myself… they’re all true. But they’re not the whole story.

My story, the one I’m writing right now, features a halting cursor on a computer screen at 7:15 on Monday night. It includes a surprise plot twist: earlier paragraphs interrupted by the end of naptime, followed by many chances to practice patience for a small child discovering the intoxicating abandon of throwing a tantrum.

Luckily, the heroine of this bewilderingly rambling narrative is married to a hero by the name of “Dada.” Dada swept away the small princess in the middle of an outburst, carrying her off on his four-wheeled steed for an adventure.

The heroine, left behind with firm instructions to rest instead of cleaning the kitchen, microwaved some hot chocolate, picked up her phone and a magazine, and spread out all of the above on an aesthetic quilt. (The observant reader will recall that this quilt was previously mentioned as a minor character in this story, albeit under a slightly different name. Despite all signs to the contrary, this is not a Russian novel.)

The heroine then proceeded to spend most of her precious free time decorating an imaginary living room on her phone and taking pictures of her magazine and hot chocolate. She did, however, manage to get in some actual reading.

When the adventuring pair returned home, she switched out the magazine for a laptop, returned to the Prana-welcome-mat of inspiration, and typed out the rest of the story while King Dada washed the dishes and sang “Fly Me to the Moon” to his small princess.

In the middle of nowhere, five dozen crickets knead the surface of a quiet pond with their seesaw calls. Myriads of stars glide shyly into view over a forest full of September-toasted trees and mossy knolls. A sleepy labrador retriever curls up on the porch of a farmhouse under the cozy yellow glow of string lights.

Meanwhile, in the middle of somewhere, the cozy yellow glow of string lights clashes with the blue glare of a laptop screen. Two neighbors walk past speaking Spanish in the fading light. The sky is just bright enough to silhouette a dizzy mosquito. A truck speeds past with pounding radio. It is almost bedtime for a weary one-year-old. And a tired farm girl takes a sip of hot chocolate and decides to create anyway.

Hopefully this will be the first of many such posts I create in this little space - writing, photography, art, recipes… who knows! I hope you’ll stick around and join me in creating beauty in the ordinary. Thanks for being here. <3

~Allison