I write a lot over here on simple rhythms and spacious margins, but it wasn't the original intent of this space, nor was it a practice that came . . .
I've been quiet on the blog the last few weeks. None of us has lived through a pandemic before and to be honest, I didn't know what to say. This . . .
When I was in sixth grade, my family moved from a house in our small Kentucky town into the county. My grandfather owned a farm on the northeastern . . .
Last weekend I got the first glimpse of our new normal. All the things have begun. Back-to-school nights have come and gone, fall soccer is in full . . .
Graham came home one night a few weeks ago and I was done. "I'm going out," I said. "Where?" he asked. "Anywhere but here," I responded. Y'all. There . . .
Last weekend, I spent the night with a dozen girlfriends in a 170-year-old farmhouse over a few glasses of wine and a roaring fire. I was in my happy . . .
One of my dearest friends in the world used to be afraid of flying. Like crazy afraid. We'd prep for weeks before a trip, and one spring break in . . .
Every spring, it never fails. Like clockwork, as soon as the temperatures rise and the rainy season starts, we have an ant invasion on our . . .
Like many of you, I have a word for 2019. I personally prefer this to the never-ending lists of resolutions, but it can be hard to keep a . . .
Over Easter weekend, I went back to my old Kentucky roots and spent a little time in my hometown of Cynthiana. In Kentucky, you are known by your . . .