I never finished posting about the first day of work on that project, never mind rest of it. I got a bit bored writing it, to be honest, though, I think there’s a deeper story there — one of exhaustion

On the rare occasions when I search for shells alone, I like to inspect my haul as soon as I get home. Diving doesn’t allow for the same care and deliberation as combing the shore, and often this is the

Yesterday, I started a project for an exhibit at a local visitors center. Often I can use pieces that I’ve already cut, or leftover scraps from old projects, but I realized fairly quickly into work that

The town has been doing a bang up job of raking the beaches — barely a quahog in sight all summer. Super frustrating for a woman who makes a living out scavenging for them, though. By the 4th of July,

What do you do? Such a strange question. I breathe. I eat. I parent. I endure (sometimes appreciate) being parented, even at the age of 34. I love. I grieve. I worry and I persist. I try to rest, to replenish,

Hello, again. I’ve sort of sorted out how to get a photo of me right side up. So that’s me, again, right now, taken with my tablet as I’m writing. And here is my view: It’s a bit cleaner. Yesterday’s photo

Hi. This is me, right now. Taken with my tablet camera. And this is my view. I’ve been cleaning — part of this big adventure. Oh, look, the photo of me is upside down. That tracks. I don’t really understand