Nearly a month without rain in Nashville, the trees in their autumn glory look thirsty. My pups stir up a small dust storm each time they go out, pups and dust both finding their way back into the house. The…
Mary Oliver
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Dear Bacon Friends – I can’t run the interview planned for this morning due to a minor technical problem, but I’m happy to share a couple of beautiful poems from Mary Oliver’s collection A Thousand Mornings. These poems ask (me)…
Pepper and I sat outside for a while after the rain passed. I scattered safflower seeds close by and wondered how brave the finches and cardinals might get. (They kept their distance. Ahhh, but they looked!) Pepper and I thought…
The grass in my yard crunches underfoot, yellow as straw in some places. Pepper rouses small tornadoes of dust as she chases the squirrels. Yet the trees remain mostly green heading into October – a dry green, a stubborn green…
Have you heard? Mary Oliver has died. The best beloved poet of our time? Yes. Maybe. But I’m sure – not only in my mind. She walked in beauty, like the night.
I worry myself to death over things I didn’t say quite right – in a meeting, at a party, to a friend. This is a terrible idea, sort of like having that third Krispy Kreme. But sometimes you can’t…
Last weekend, my husband and I slipped into the back row of a Thanksgiving chapel service at the boarding school our daughters attend. Hundreds of students loudly filled the underground stone chapel, the boys in their coats and ties and the…
These are the last days of my dog, Belle. She remains in good spirits – at least, today – but lymphoma has caused the nodes in her neck to swell to the size of golf balls. The vet says the…
These are the last days of my dog, Belle. She remains in good spirits – at least, today – but lymphoma has caused the nodes in her neck to swell to the size of golf balls. The vet says the…