Walking after midnight
byThis essay was previously published in the Summer 2001 Abbey Letter, no. 206 (Saint Gregory’s Abbey, Three Rivers, Michigan). Shortly after I joined the…
Three Rivers
Practicing silence
byAt The Hermitage Community, the contemplative prayer center where I serve, we often remark to new guests that we give the gift or “permission”…
Sounds like home
byWerner likes to crouch in his dormer and imagine radio waves like mile-long harp strings, bending and vibrating over Zollverein, flying through forests, through…
Good Yet
byThe old farmer stands at the end of the lane, big smile plastered on his face, waving goodbye. His coveralls are stained with work,…
Dad, 1944
byBerlin, Ohio (Photographer Unknown) My first response to this photo was thinking about its simplicity. There’s a certain spare quality in this simple picture…
Original thrift
byMa was boiling molasses in a pan. When Laura’s kettle was full of popped corn, Ma dipped some into a large pan, poured a…
Home/Work
byThree Rivers, Michigan (September 2015) Late afternoon sunlight slanted across the carpet and ran up the worn wood of the desk. I could feel…
Melancholy Christmas
byWe moved to Three Rivers, Michigan, 13 years ago during a snowy winter to live in a cottage on Pleasant Lake. The cold arrived…
A good life
byThree Rivers, Michigan (2015) My mom had asked me to take a photo of my grandparents with my sister, who was visiting our family…
In defense of details
byUntil several years ago, almost everything I knew about farming I learned from the Little House books. The Ingalls family saga was the beloved…