Posts Tagged: Love

On the Future: A Harsh Climate for Motherhood

Before me was a grey fog in which visibility approached zero as I would approach the end of a given year or course of study. I now consider my inability to imagine the future a climate impact: learning about climate change had violently altered my experience of reality.

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On the Future: A Harsh Climate for Motherhood

Before me was a grey fog in which visibility approached zero as I would approach the end of a given year or course of study. I now consider my inability to imagine the future a climate impact: learning about climate change had violently altered my experience of reality.

We Cannot Love What Is Not

Helen MacDonald’s memoir, H is for Hawk, is about falconry as mourning in the wake of her father’s sudden death. But what struck me most about MacDonald’s book is the way climate change is present throughout, without being the intended subject.

We Cannot Love What Is Not

Helen MacDonald’s memoir, H is for Hawk, is about falconry as mourning in the wake of her father’s sudden death. But what struck me most about MacDonald’s book is the way climate change is present throughout, without being the intended subject.

Stuffaloes Go Roaming

A lot of babies in my orbit these days, the new kids of people I love. I’ve been celebrating by figuring out how to make different kinds of animals for them.

Stuffaloes Go Roaming

A lot of babies in my orbit these days, the new kids of people I love. I’ve been celebrating by figuring out how to make different kinds of animals for them.

The Family Practice: on loss and grooves

Words dried up when my father died. In the new year I’m finding new words, but this paragraph I wrote in June was like a lump in my throat, demanding to come first:

The Family Practice: on loss and grooves

Words dried up when my father died. In the new year I’m finding new words, but this paragraph I wrote in June was like a lump in my throat, demanding to come first: