Of rebirth and the ghosts of memories
Creating a microenvironment to call your own
The home is you, and you are your home.
Learning to be present this holiday season.
Emotions aside, home is where your stuff fits
Carolyn Vibbert, Illustrator
Be careful what you wish for
It was never our first home—it was just home.
In my memory, the old cottage was massive.
piccalilli |'pika,lile’| noun (plural piccalillies or piccalillis) a relish of chopped vegetables, mustard and hot spices
People who spend a lot of time on a lake—whether year-round or every summer or for just one much-anticipated week every year—tend to feel possessive about it.
My husband calls them New Hampshire potatoes, the hundreds of rocks we pick from our garden every spring, heaved to the surface by winter’s churn of frost and thaw. We’ve been planting here for twenty-five years. My in-laws turned over…
Although I came of age in the late 1960s and early 1970s, I have always thought of myself as a child of the Depression. My Depression-era mother schooled me in saving anything that could be used again and making do…
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