Reflections
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Behind the Puddle | September Evenings
I love September evenings like this. The air finally has enough chill in it to make a small fire feel inviting, but not so much that you are ready to retreat indoors. There is something about sitting outside under a blanket, watching the little flames flicker against the growing dark, that makes the whole day… Continue reading
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Outsidesy not Outdoorsy
Sunday’s adventure trying to scale the slight elevation along the side of Saylorville Lake definitely reaffirmed something I have suspected for a long time. I am an outsidesy person, but I am definitely not an outdoorsy person. I love being outside. I love sitting beside the puddle, walking through the neighborhood, putting my feet in… Continue reading
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It Was Still Worth Coming Outside
There are days when going outside feels like a simple decision, and there are days when it feels like something I have to negotiate with my own body. Today was one of those days. I was hurting more than usual, walking was difficult, sitting was not especially comfortable, and I was already tired before the… Continue reading
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I Still Need Proof
I know Great Blue Herons perch in trees. I know this because I have looked it up. I have read about it. I have watched Stella and Stanley fly into the trees around the puddle more times than I can count. I have watched them sit quietly on branches, move higher into the tree, and… Continue reading
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Sunday Night
Nothing extraordinary needed to happen next. The feeders grew quiet, the visitors went home, and the light slowly disappeared behind the trees. We sat beside the fire together beneath a sliver of moon, letting a beautiful weekend say goodnight. Sometimes a reset isn’t beginning again. Sometimes it is simply ending the day knowing that, for… Continue reading
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Behind the Puddle | To Everyone Who Came to See What Was Behind the Puddle
When I began writing Puddle Stories, I wasn’t trying to create anything. I was actually feeling rather lost and isolated, and this little puddle outside my door had quietly become a place where I could sit, notice, and find pieces of myself again. Eventually, I began sharing some of what I was seeing and thinking,… Continue reading
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Puddle Reflection
Enough water for the mallards to swim.Enough shallows for the heron to hunt.Enough space for everybody to belong. Continue reading
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When Loving Someone Has to Look Different
There are kinds of grief that arrive after someone dies. And there are kinds of grief that begin while someone is still very much alive. When someone we love is living with dementia, the losses rarely arrive all at once. They come in pieces. A conversation that no longer happens the way it once did.… Continue reading
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When the Puddle Isn’t Home
Not every puddle is behind my house. Some days the puddle is sixty miles away, in an infusion center, where I spend an hour receiving something my body needs but cannot provide on its own. The drive is about an hour there, an hour for the infusion, another thirty minutes waiting to be sure there… Continue reading
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