The first day of the month is a fantastic time for a fresh start. It’s a clean, new number: one. Like a mini-New Year’s resolution, you can resolve today to be or do more of whatever you want in its solid, one-sy newness. As I run my business and watch it grow, I’m
Happy Sunday! Happy May Day! Happy Almost Summer! Happy phrases that necessitate exclamation marks! The sitch: I got up this morning, had my coffee, saddled my horse (a.k.a put a leash on my 11-pound terrier) and went out into the cruel, 70-degree world, searching for May flowers to photograph for you,
Long ago one April afternoon, in a library far, far away, a quiet bibliophile, nose between a Longfellow and a Wordsworth, looked up from her thick, dusty book of poems and declared, “We shall henceforth call this month, ‘National Poetry Month.'” And so it was. OK, not really. But that’s how
In her seventeen years of life as they had so far been lived, Abigail Fountain came to learn there were exactly four things she absolutely could not stand: 1. Tomato sauce. Because really what was the point of some soupy version of a fine-enough vegetable? Or fruit. Or vegetable. 2.