The children went to bed disappointed. The weather forecast had promised snow, but the sky, leaden though it was, did not deliver. As they slept even my hopes were fading, but flakes began to swirl around the streetlight outside the window. We fell asleep with a dusting and woke up to a blanket, its arrival
writing
the power of small stories
I believe in the power of small stories. In this ever-connected social media world, we peek into people’s lives from the outside, with the focus on their red-letter days: the life-changing events, the adventurous trips, the thrilling announcements. It’s oh so easy to compare our stories and find ourselves wanting, to feel that our lives
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writing
no need to sparkle
“No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself.” – Virginia Woolf (from A Room of One’s Own) As a teenager, I was given a copy of A Room of One’s Own by a beloved, bookish aunt, but I properly discovered Woolf, as I suppose so many do, in
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weekending
weekending :: liquid light
There is something very soothing about tiny traditions. In the winter time, they’re the little landmarks that help us navigate our way through the grey days, reassuring us that we will once again make it out into the springtime beyond. For our family, one such tradition is Snowdrop Sunday. On a bright Sunday, in mid February, we