In the dark of very early morning, I slip out from beneath the covers, reach for my glasses, slide my feet into slippers, tip-toe across the floor to find my warm sweater on its hook. I quietly lift my laptop from my desk, step into the dark hall and close the bedroom door behind me. I settle into my familiar place in the living room at the end of the sofa, next to a sleeping Nellie in her chair, and cover myself in the knitted throw. I open my laptop and my mind begins to work. This is when I write, when I gather scattered thoughts, when I put them to virtual paper. This is when I scroll through photos taken in the previous days, deleting some, editing others, planning an upcoming blog post layout.
In the bright hours of the day, it’s less about writing, and more about content prep and photography. In all hours of the day and night, weekdays and weekends, it’s ever-present thought and planning for what’s coming next in this living thing called a blog that I’ve created.
This photography and writing, this publishing to a world wide web has been a major part of my days and hours for over ten years. It’s a medium that has spoken my language. The synergy found in weaving the visual and the written is beautiful and profound. I’ve written for the love of writing. For the love of capturing the beauty in the mundane, the extraordinary in the ordinary. I’ve written for the sustenance found in living well. I’ve always written from where I am, always with the heart for what is authentic and real.
Over the years, you have followed. My readers. You’ve been here, reading the black on white. I’m so glad you’ve come, so appreciated having you along, reading, commenting, sharing. It’s the conversation that has made it even better - your words and mine together creating a deeper beauty.
I’ve recently received comments expressing concern and sadness over gradual changes to the blog - that it now seems commercial and marketed, that I seem to be all spiffed up and polished, that the blog is geared more toward marketing myself and my skills, that I’m not writing the same as I once did, as a mom, a wife, a teller of stories and insights. That you miss my writing about the boys and family life.
Loves, may I speak to this? Maybe open some understanding for those of you who are concerned?
First of all, thank you. Thank you for caring enough to voice your concern. It has brought clarity at just the right time.
It’s always been my intention to live from where I am. To see what I had, where I was, and make it into something beautiful. Life, as it flows, changes. Every third month marks a new season that looks different from the last. I’m a mama, but now to (almost) grown boys. I’m a mama in a different way. I’m a wife in a different way. I’m a woman in a different way. I’m a professional. Nurturing all these portions of myself, I’m always tuning in, listening, growing. I’m also nurturing our family as it grows - tuning in, listening, caring, providing.
Our boys have grown. Four years from now, the last one will be nearing high school graduation. They’re growing into their own opinions and ideas, writing their own goals. It’s beautiful to behold, and something to be respected. They’re not as keen to be photographed and published on the blog as they once were. Changes. I love them for that.
And what better thing could a mama give her children as they grow up than the example of making a living doing what you love? Showing them the worth of their interests, abilities, and training? Encouraging them to take what they have a run with it? To see the exchange of their work for the support of their needs, ideas, and dreams?
I want them to see that the hours I spend in my work have a monetary return. That the model might change, but the essence doesn’t have to. All the years of writing here, the hours of planning, photographing, editing, and producing content that I spoke about? It’s been a tremendous amount of love on my part. It’s also been a tremendous amount of work. Work that, in no other capacity or platform, would go without fair compensation.
Change in this life, no matter our feelings about it, is inevitable. We can either fight it and try to believe it’s not happening, forcing things to remain the same, or we can let go, trust the change, embrace and explore it, and find beauty and abundance waiting in the new. It’s my hope that I’ll always be attentive to the tone of my life and its current needs, always seeking that which inspires and draws me into a better version of myself and my work.
Yes, the blog has changed, and righty so.
Beginning on April 1, you’ll find my first monthly newsletter going out. Think of it as a longer form of the blog posts you’ve loved in the past. In the newsletter, I’ll get to continue the voice and tone of the first ten years of my writing. For those of you who are particular fans of my early work, this is for you. But, really, I hope everyone subscribes. Reading like a chapter from a good book, each letter will be made of photos and words, together painting a picture of living well. Beginning in March, you’ll be able to sign up to the newsletter’s mailing list.
Moving forward, on the blog you’ll find a new pace to the posting schedule. I’ll let authenticity guide my content, as I have all along, staying true to my values and aesthetic, to my calling, to the idea of living well. I’ll take the opportunities that align with my ideals and provide value to my readers, and I’ll disregard those that don’t. I’ll continue to encourage all of us to choose fewer, better things, to nourish our souls in nature, to do what we can with what we have, to create a becoming home. And, yes, my profession will be evident. (I’m looking forward to this.) On the blog’s sidebar, I’ll keep a photo of myself so you can see who it is that writes these words (It’s easier to hide than it is to be seen, did you know?). You’ll also find easy navigation there, to take you where you’d like to go.
Simply put, loves, my work needs to support our needs, ideas, and dreams. In so doing, perhaps I can inspire yours.
Here, I write on living well. Where tasteful design and simple living meet in an inspired, organic way.
Shop the quiet guide to thoughtful household goods
- January 2019
- December 2018
- November 2018
- October 2018
- August 2018
- July 2018
- June 2018
- May 2018
- April 2018
- March 2018
- February 2018
- January 2018
- December 2017
- November 2017
- October 2017
- September 2017
- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016