ODE TO THE ORANGERY
AT HOME
IN THE GARDEN
PEOPLE, PLACES, & THINGS
FEATURED POST
READER’S CHOICE
A Louisiana family moves 2,000 miles away, to Park City, Utah. It might as well be another planet. Louisiana: hot, humid, swampy - often well into the winter. Utah: high desert, dry, rocky. Cold. Hello, Opposite World. Sure, I said to Shane, I'll follow you anywhere, just (please, God) nowhere cold, or snowy. Like Utah. (Ahem, Lord?) Guess what? We survived. Unbelievably, we've since lived in the (much colder) Midwest. I feel like we graduated, actually, because the Midwest is grown-up cold, y’all. Utah was our initiation into the cold, I suppose. Illinois was exponentially colder, wetter, and snowier. But also, spectacular in Spring, balmy in Summer, breathtaking in Fall. Was my apple cart upset? Yep. But God knew how to handle me. I've learned to be thankful for the temporary discomfort being dumped out of my box. And to never tell God what I won't do.
MOST RECENT POSTS
Nature inspires me. Well, not just me. Since the dawn of time, artists, writers, philosophers have been inspired by its wonders. The Psalmist David, overcome, declared, in the 19th Psalm, that nature could only have one divine source: "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands." The sheer diversity of nature staggers me. Like David, I am awed by its Creator. I am moved to tears by the green rolling hills of Jo Daviess County, Illinois. To tears! By farmland! So, too, winding streams, fawns, the flight of an eagle. Tender ferns, rocky mountains, a herd of bull elk. Worms in dirt. Red birds. The sky at daybreak. I could go on and on. What I do with this inspiration is feather my nest. My home is a nod to our stunning planet. I favor botanicals and bird prints, grasscloth and jute, antlers and ferns, and, flowers. Always, flowers.
MY INSPIRATION
Some people think if you've seen one sunset, you’ve seen them all. In fact, I don’t recall being especially interested in sunsets for most of my life, so I understand the sentiment. But, we find ourselves a bit preoccupied by Lake Bruin sunsets these days. Maybe it’s the Covid quarantine that’s got us happy for any distraction, or the Saharan dust cloud that 2020 unfurled and blew across the Atlantic, but I suspect it’s a lot more than that. We’ve not had a lot of time, for the last 20 or so years, to slow down and enjoy the long farewell of summer days. This place has given us time and opportunity to witness the sun’s slow, spectacular slide over the lake and behind the trees; every descent sending streaks of color across the sky in a moment-by-moment light show, each one different from the last. We’re grateful, and continually astonished. We’ve seen many, many sunsets at this point, but I sincerely hope we’ve not seen them all.
LAKE BRUIN SUNSETS
