I don't know where to start. No, that's not right. I've started. Several times. I've got little "starts" all over the house; the framed artwork I've started boxing for shipment, the piles of plastic bags full of stuff I'm getting rid of, the half-full boxes of papers (oh my GOD the papers we have accumulated)... Continue Reading →
As you may well have assumed, the preparations for our move out west are in full swing. Or I guess, more accurately, the planning is in full swing. The preparations are largely in hurry-up-and-wait mode. Which makes sense. Meg can't pack a lot of what we're taking with us, she's still using it! She can't... Continue Reading →
It happened. The first seed catalogs are out. "Never too early to plan your garden!" Right about this time of year, I start salivating/squealing/budgeting/dreaming about planting my garden. In the cold--often in the snow--I plot out nascent planting beds, envision foliage coloration through the seasons, consider height and sunlight, ease of care. Last year I... Continue Reading →
I don't know how many more of these departures I can take. Every time he leaves, my resilience is tested, Stretch Armstrong-style. I'm a pretty sturdy gal, absorbing some heavy blows over my lifetime. Sometimes they're clustered, peppering me with punches to the gut so fast I lose my breath. Sometimes they're bell-ringers, knocking me... Continue Reading →
It appears that my husband and I, in spite of our careful planning and his near obsessive attention to detail, have overlooked one of the factors of our move to Portland. All of our discussions and hand-wringing about finances (which are difficult) and logistics (not quite as complex as we'd thought) and emotional strength (surprisingly... Continue Reading →
Meg Currell 