These Farmhouse Bookshelves
This is a gardener's favorite time of year. All is new green growth and hopeful expectation. Weeds, bugs, and wilting heat are yet to come. Snow and freezing temperatures seem more and more remote. It is my favorite time of year. Whether you are an armchair gardener or a gardener with dirt under your nails (I'm a little bit of both), here are...
The Season of Singing Has Come
Spring has finally come to Maplehurst, and we are living in a watercolor world. Trees are smudged with the almost-neon green of new buds. The ground is blurred by the purple and white of wild violets. Move your head too quickly, and the brilliant yellow of the dandelions might just look like a lightning strike. For several days, I have noticed...
These Farmhouse Bookshelves
I didn't read many fairy tales as a child. I'm afraid my fairy-tale education was managed entirely by Disney. I think, now that I'm grown, I'm making up for that deficiency. I love stories with their roots in faerieland. I love books in which the line between fantasy and reality is, not blurred exactly, but elusive, as if we are experiencing...
Blessed: A Guest Post
Are you visiting from J.R.'s Love is What You Do? Welcome. I write about the kingdom of God. About motherhood. About books. I pray that the kingdom comes down to my own bit of Pennsylvania countryside. I try to pay attention when it does. J. R. Goudeau is a PhD candidate in English literature. When I was a PhD candidate in English literature,...
These Farmhouse Bookshelves
The first books I ever truly loved were the Nancy Drew mysteries. In middle school I couldn't get enough Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, and Miss Marple. Today, mysteries are my number one comfort read. Actually, they're just about the only thing I watch on television, too, provided they're British. This could explain why every time I take my...
These Last Days
These last awe-full days of Lent are upon us. To be honest, the past few weeks seem to me like a blur of pictures and noise. The world is spinning faster now than it was just a month ago (something the poets know even if the scientists haven't yet discovered it), and I feel the need to stop and steady myself. And then ... the headlong rush...