Blog
Mass on the Banks of Inks Lake
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” we begin. I feel the Holy Ghost breathe through the quivering arms of the sycamore, whose foliage betrays the dawn of autumn. As a monarch butterfly dances through the falling leaves, the Gospel reading warns us: you know not the hour. I close my eyes and wonder: will I be ready if, today, death calls my name? The breeze gently draws my long, golden hair into its rhythm, as the Lord of the universe tugs on my heart to return.
Our Secret (A Poem)
It is in rest
That I feel it most.
What can I call the sensation?
An internal pulse. A churning. A surge.
A knock on the door of my rib cage.
I witness the rise and fall of my flesh
Stretched thin across my belly
And smile.
You’re awake.
Another Christmas at Sawyer’s Peak
I wake to soft streams of light pouring through the window of my childhood bedroom, and the warmth of a small curled body that has taken liberty to climb under my covers while I slept. Feigning slumber, I peek one eye open to look out the slats of my window blinds, and glimpse a flurry of white fairies littering the crisp winter air. They settle on the lawn and patio like a coating of powdered sugar. I inhale with deep satisfaction. It’s Christmas morning.
From Tree to Cobbler: Cherry Picking in Door County
In the Northeast of Wisconsin, where cheese squeaks and the beaches are free of salt or sharks, lies a peninsula called Door County. I’ve had my fill of wine tastings when my boyfriend, his parents, and I venture to a cherry orchard planted between green hills graced with flocks of black and white cows.
Another Summer at Lake Wallenpaupack, PA
Baby fish begin leaping to catch a net of bugs that hover just above the water’s surface, and when they fall it looks like rain. Their silver bellies catch the light in paparazzi flashes about me. They do this at the same time every year—just like the baby toads that hop across the beach, and the tiger swallowtail butterflies, punctually filling the lake bushes with their delicate yellow wings each summer.