'Lacrimae rerum,' according to one of my teachers, was a Latin phrase chanted by monks in the wee hours of the night, when the veils between body and soul are the thinnest. This phrase can be translated as 'the tears of things,' or the 'tears…
This year, amidst the pandemic, we felt moved to dig up much of our wee backyard and plant several garden beds. The last weeks of rain have left the garden lush with growth: this morning I picked several cucumbers, presents tucked in among the mass of leaves and vines. Planting…
Yesterday I drove my son to his last day at the wilderness school he's attended for the last five years. A young man on the cusp of 15, his time at this school - beloved to me - is ending. Over the years, there are so many times…