Indiana summer is here. After a brutal winter that kept us huddled indoors like so many houseplants, the sun has returned, and the corn. If it’s possible for one’s whole

I’d not heard it before. It was a new one for me, and I knew right away I was an expert. Procaffeinating. That was the word. Procrastinating while caffeinating. And

I’ll just say it plain:  I’m in a quandary, unsure of what to do, which choice to make.  Even The Mister is uncertain; doesn’t want to say, “Yes, I think you should,” only to

If anything could bring it on, a trip through the checkout lane was it. One stopped off, thinking that all she was getting was groceries for the week. Instead, what

It happened a couple of months back. We were talking, Mister and I, with a friend about our Saul-turning-Paul’s journey. God had heard Mother’s prayer for a “Damascus moment,” and

I slip outside, pack slung on a shoulder, coffee in hand, and I sit. Before me, it spreads. Three acres, often sunny, where birds call, squirrels dash, rabbits hop, flowers

The rains had come.  Drought still gripped the land, but the liquid gold, so long delayed, had begun to fall, transforming brown landscapes with advancing shades of green. In our

“Raising boys—that’s an extreme sport!” Such was the sentiment that found its way to my desk on the recent Mother’s Day weekend. On the front was a photo of three

Coffee perks, splutters joy full into my cup, and I lift it, inhaling all grateful. Taking up my pack, I step out the door, walk right into the ‘shine. I

I should’ve known it would come. Sure as the sun comes up in the east. Sure as the tides rise and fall. Sure as Republicans will fight with the Dems,