my daughter’s further lino print adventures

A grid of four lino cut prints, one each on white and red and two on yellow, the same pattern of four rush, some whole and some skeletal.

riven and re-pieced

I will never tire of conversion stories in all their many forms, and this from @mbattles is especially memorable: You know how it’s been for me since last June, when I stumbled into a stretch of the Damascus Road that runs secret along the Victoria Line of the London Underground. I mean that shift of gravity that I can only call by the name “conversion.” You’ll remember me recounting how suddenly I was struck, amid the swaying and banter and laughter of a group of Italian schoolkids as they came tumbling aboard—struck by the shine of their souls big enough to fill the universe, by the radical precious value of creatureliness in each one, and by the unassailable force that holds these together, which can only be called love.

Continue reading →

Currently reading: Dust and Light: On the Art of Fact in Fiction by Andrea Barrett 📚

fiction, not fact.

Andrea Barrett, from Dust and Light: Here’s a passage from a letter Anton Chekhov wrote on December 9, 1890, to his friend Alexi Suvorin, describing his journey back from Sakhalin: When we left Hong Kong the ship began to roll. The vessel was empty and made thirty-eight-degree swings, so we were afraid it would capsize. I am not prone to seasickness—that discovery came as a pleasant surprise. On the way to Singapore the bodies of two people were thrown into the sea.

Continue reading →

Currently reading: A Long Game by Elizabeth McCracken 📚 Inhaled this. McCracken is my queen.

a very average looking field

Mary Ellen Mitchell: They may not know, but I should tell them, that Carol delivers me breakfast every Monday morning and then cleans the shelter; Amber prays for me whenever she passes MaryEllen street, which she does a lot, because it intersects with the street she lives on. Jeannette texts me weekly to let me know she’s thinking of me, in between doing legal favors for Lydia’s House, because she’s an attorney.

Continue reading →

16 yr old son musing after dinner: If LOTR didn’t exist, I think I’d actually be a different person?

pickles, various

On my kitchen counter, two jars of colorful summer pickles, with fresh peaches and cherry tomatoes lining the window sill in the background
On my kitchen counter, a bright green array of sugar snap peas cut on the bias, with my wooden cutting board and a couple of tomatoes nearby.

Many neighbor chats are still about the whole World Cup unlikely-patriotism borne of tourists' reported love for all things USA. True where you are?

I have central air for the first time in my adult life, and it is a MAJOR upgrade.

I should give up YouTube shorts, but the Caitlin Clark clips make it SO hard.

I’m sure it’s pure coincidence that I’ve become completely obsessed with the robin family awaiting babies in the tree outside my window in the summer before my daughter leaves for college

Got some new stickers for my office from Sight Study.

Three bumper-style stickers: one reads "AI Ain't It," one reads "Too Alive to Optimize" and one reads, simply, "Yearning!"

KYE discussion with Jack Hanson on Magnifica Humanitas is excellent.

Finished reading: Tell Me Everything by Elizabeth Strout 📚 More tales in the diaspora of Olive Kitteredge. Strout can generate so much from very little.

new forms

Every interview with Christian Wiman is chock full of poetry and aphorisms to think with, and this one is no different. Especially grateful for this, though: Simone Weil says, “There are two atheisms, of which one is a purification of the notion of God,” which can be helpful. Years ago I said that sometimes God calls a person to unbelief so that faith can take new forms. I think faith is always trying to take new forms.

Continue reading →

My daughter’s hand-printed thank you cards for her graduation gifts. ❤️

In a top to bottom series, a group of black and white fish lie, some merely carcasses

Thanks to Robert Coles for making me feel like less of an academic weirdo: “So what was he? Dr. Coles variously described himself as a doctor, child psychiatrist, wanderer, oral historian, social anthropologist, teacher, friend, storyteller, busybody, nuisance and ‘idiosyncratic oddball.'” RIP.

In other news, I have reached the precise age known as Speaks Aloud to Nesting Birds Outside House Window.