sea salt

The proverb "It takes a village to raise a child" is nothing new. We've heard it, said it, and Hillary Clinton even wrote a book about it. But if you're like me, you had no idea what it actually meant until you had a child...and needed your village like never before. Before I even knew how (and how often) I'd need our village, I knew they were there. They sent books from far and wide, many inscribed with messages telling Jolene how much she was loved. These shelves can't hold all the books... ...and neither can this one... ...so we also have piles all over the house. What a lovely problem to have! On this rainy and cold afternoon, Jolene and I cuddled up with a few books from our village: church, financial planner, family, friends, work. *I have to emphasize that this is only a tiny sampling. There aren't adequate words to describe how much I've leaned on so many others in our village - from the endless supply of maternity clothe...

When we sat down to read, I had it all planned out. We had an artist-themed selection of new books, as well as continuing our progress in Help, Thanks, Wow . I would stage some lovely reading shots, come away inspired by artists, and hope to instill in Jolene a love of art, either as an observer or a maker. It would be magical, and this post would inspire you, and we would all go about our days. Instead, things did  not  go as planned, and I drew my inspiration not from the artists and writers, but from silly little Harold and his purple crayon. Why? Because his whole story is about making it up as you go along. Improvising. Drawing a hot air balloon to catch you when you start to fall. Starting with a simple, straight path but ending up having adventures instead.  What could possibly go wrong, right? He's got a path! Falling in thin air?! Thank goodness for those wits and that purple crayon. We made it through Harold and the Purple Crayon without i...

I began working on this post on Thursday afternoon. I'd spent the morning leisurely flipping through books on the shelves, looking for just the right selections for the day's reading. It was wonderful - I read some Wordsworth in an old college textbook, a few pages of a Raymond Carver story, the first and last pages of The Great Gatsby . Then, whether it was the muse, or intuition, or what one of my writing mentors used to call "the subconscious editor," I found myself pulling these 4: The Chronicles of Narnia - C.S. Lewis (final chapter of The Last Battle ) Mr. Rabbit and the Lovely Present - Charlotte Zolotow Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes - Mem Fox Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers - Anne Lamott (prelude) We sat down to read: we savored the Caldecott-winning illustrations by Maurice Sendak in Mr. Rabbit , wiggled our toes (well, Jolene's toes) to the sing-song cadence of Ten Little Fingers , got teary-eyed reading the last par...

#ReadingWithJolene is a new series that celebrates my love of words. I'll share books I've recently read aloud to my baby daughter Jolene, why I wanted her to hear them, and how I hope to become a better mother and person in the process. There’s not much you can do with a newborn. In the early weeks of my maternity leave, I found myself bored for much of the day - completely exhausted, but bored. Jolene slept extremely well, an incredible gift for which I will always be grateful, but that meant I only had a few moments with her each day while she was actually awake - and those were usually consumed with feeding. Now and then I would pull out a couple books off the shelf and read to her while she dozed in my arms. I adore the Nancy Tillman collection, as well as the classic Eric Carle board books, but Jolene was never really alert - I was reading because I needed something to do with her, because I love words, and because it felt like the kind of thing a good mothe...