When I lived in New York’s Hudson Valley, surrounded by endless winter woods, it was the tremendous Magnolia tree in our back yard that announced the shift in seasons. Over the years, its branches grew to form a canopy so large that sitting beneath its branches was to find myself enveloped in luxurious solitude. It was the explosion of silky blossoms that briefly embraced this space in April that formed a sight line to spring. … Read More
It’s funny how the generations roll over on each other. There seems to be this timeless lock, inexplicable in its emotional impact, but clarified by the familial items that anchor our memories. I have been thinking a lot about my mother since my grandson was born. She was such a wonderful grandmother: we used to call her Mary Poppins. There she would be, crawling on the floor under a card table fort in her perfectly …