Hearth Notes
The sneakers are still by the front door, and the school forms are filled out, and I test another batch of Italian meatballs (at my daughters request) while watching the news with the sound off because I can't handle hearing about Gaza again today but I also can&
Hearth Notes
There's a particular quality to late summer light — the way it slants through windows at angles that weren't there in July, catching motes of cat fur suspended in the air like tiny question marks. Our new kitten has claimed the guest bathroom sink as her throne,
Hearth Notes
The baby threw Cheerios on the floor. Again. I was on my hands and knees picking them up when I noticed our dog had already eaten most of them. She was doing me a favor, really. I stayed down there for an extra second, eye-level with dust bunnies and toys.
Projects
*There are over 100 pictures in this post, you might need to give it a minute or two to let them all load* I have over 30,000 photos on my phone. Thirty thousand moments I deemed worth capturing, then promptly forgot about — digital artifacts collecting dust in an endless
Hearth Notes
On curiosity as a way of being, not just doing There's a particular quality to summer light that makes ordinary things feel experimental. Maybe it's the way late afternoon sun transforms a kitchen counter into something worth photographing, or how the extra daylight stretches possibility into
Hearth Notes
Originally shared as a letter on Substack. I’m archiving it here for anyone who prefers to read on the blog or wants to return to it later. A letter to anyone who feels like they have something to say but can't quite figure out what it is
Hearth Notes
I'm writing this during afternoon quiet time while my preschooler "reads" books in her room and the baby naps. This morning around 6am, they were both up and ready to conquer the world while I was still trying to remember how coffee works. Three months ago,
Hearth Notes
I used to believe in the perfect summer morning. It looked like 6am silence and oat milk lattes on the back porch, windows thrown wide to catch the cool air before the world stirred. Summer mornings were supposed to be different—more spacious, more golden. I had it all planned
Hearth Notes
Sometimes none of it works. You try the shower trick, the recipe testing, the mindful dish washing. Your brain won't engage differently. Everything feels like monitoring. Even the activities that usually help feel like another task to manage, another thing you're failing at. These are the
Hearth Notes
I've been thinking about rest all wrong, and I suspect every parent juggling multiple responsibilities has too. Not the sleep kind of rest—though that's also complicated when you're mentally planning tomorrow's meals while your head hits the pillow. I mean the
Hearth Notes
I watered the plant before it wilted. That was the win today—not because it was dramatic or important to anyone else, but because I noticed the slight droop of leaves and responded before crisis hit. There's something profound in that moment of recognition, when you catch the
Hearth Notes
I keep waiting for a finish line that doesn't exist. A cleaner kitchen. A neatly written script. A parenting win that feels like a full stop. But life doesn't really tie up like that - at least not often. More and more, I'm realizing