Out in the garden this morning, I found a tiny bird's nest, no larger than the palm of my hand.
I always love to discover a bird's nest--not that it happens often, but I've found a small share of them. There's something so pure, so simple, about a little creature instinctively constructing a safe haven for its young, without any frills or fanfare.
I think it's the perfect reminder (in this very noisy and complex world) to aim for a simpler life. What do we really, truly need? A soft, safe place to rest. A few bites to eat and something to drink. The warm comfort of loved ones. Perhaps a song now and then to lift our spirits.
Lovely how the quietest things can speak volumes to us if we listen. I am grateful for this morning's discovery, a secret message left behind by a mother bird, long-gone.
"It is looking at things for a long time that ripens you and gives you a deeper meaning." -- Vincent van Gogh
Yesterday I woke up to the sound of a woodpecker, which (if I'm being honest) wasn't very pleasant. But it's hard to resist such a rare photo opportunity, so off I went to the chilly back yard (25 degrees in April!), right to the edge of the woods, to study this noisy but industrious fellow up-close.
It's both easy and not easy to get a good picture of a woodpecker. It's not easy because they don't stay still for you--they have their own agenda, and that agenda is knocking their beaks into a tree trunk repeatedly and with great gusto, scoping out the insects that are hiding inside. But it's easy if you can get into their rhythm. Peck-peck-peck-peck-peck...(pause)...peck-peck-peck-peck-peck (pause). It was at the pauses that I clicked the shutter button.
"How nice of him to stop and pose for you," said a friend on Facebook when she saw the photo above. I assured her that he didn't stop; it was just a matter of working with his rhythm.
I also learned the distance that was "too close for comfort" for this particular bird. I'd take a few snapshots, then inch closer...more shots, more steps silently forward (well, as silent as the still-crunchy fallen leaves would allow). When I got within about 10 feet, the woodpecker skirted around to the other side of the tree trunk, "hiding." If I edged closer still, off it flew to a nearby tree, where it would complain loudly to me for getting too close.
So I'd back up a few steps, and he'd fly back again. Peck-peck-peck-peck-peck...(click)...
We spent nearly an hour together, off and on. My fingers would go numb (even through my gloves) and I'd go inside to thaw out and change lenses. During one of these thawing breaks, I learned from one of our bird guidebooks that I was photographing a Pileated Woodpecker. It was a male because it had that red "mustache" at its bill. The guidebook told me it was a relatively shy bird, but I'm not sure I agreed. After all, we'd come to an understanding: Keep my distance and we could "hang out" together. I gave up first, though. It was just so very cold, I had already taken many pictures, and he was doing the same thing over and over, in his own zone.
Much later in the day, after the kids got home from school, the same woodpecker was back at the same tree, pecking another large oval hole. My eight-year-old daughter ventured out to the edge of the woods with her own camera, watching and learning the rhythm of the bird.
Last week, I drove alone through three states, to and from a funeral. My cousin had died, at age 63, of lung cancer. She had an unusual life, but it's not mine to share with you here, and it feels somehow sacred and right to keep it private. Anyway, the heart of the matter is that I went to the funeral because of her mother--my great aunt, who is 103 years old and one of the people I love most in this world.
Due to her advanced age, I always expect to find my Aunt Ann looking frail and decrepit, but then she always surprises me by looking beautiful and (relatively) strong, her white hair neatly coiffed and hairsprayed, a little lipstick staining her lips like a kiss. I hold her soft hand and it reminds me of a child's worn leather gloves. I hug her tightly and we cry together. My grandmother--her sister--died when I was 14, and frankly, I was too young to fully appreciate her. But I'm very good at appreciating my aunt. I treasure each visit, fearing each one will be the last.
Another cousin kindly hosts me for the night, and we talk about the relatives no longer with us--the list sadly grows, but there are happy memories for balance.
The next day, after the funeral, I start the long drive back home. I travel through my old hometown, a small beach town on the southeastern coast of Connecticut. I pass familiar streets, the old houses of childhood friends, my grammar school, my high school (almost unrecognizable with its renovations), two churches I used to belong to. A flicker of memory is attached to each passing place. It's like a slideshow of my life.
I go a little out of my way to drive by my childhood home. The house is painted brown now (it was white when we owned it) and looks smaller than I remember. The new owners are taking good care of it, so that brings some comfort. But I don't think I'll ever get over the grand sweep of woods behind it being replaced by a posh housing development. That remains a dull ache, a lump in my throat, a splinter never fully removed.
I stop at the town beach and get out to take pictures. This beach--there's something so grounding, so comforting, about returning to a place that never seems to change. Even in winter, the beach draws some visitors. There's a person alone in each car parked at the beach's edge, eating a sandwich or just gazing out at the water, as if the answer each one is seeking will rise up out of the lazy waves.
I crouch down very low to take pictures of the bold seagulls flapping and strutting around the empty beach. A gust of wind blows and the birds hunker down, shivering on the cold sand. I realize I'm shivering, too, and head back to the car.
With each funeral and every ending, I think we learn that life doesn't get easier, but we do get to know ourselves more and more as the years tick on. With luck, we find the people and things that matter to us. We trust ourselves more, reaching deep down inside to feel on a gut level what works, and what works no longer.
At the end of last year, with the help of Susannah Conway, I chose two words to guide me through 2015: Contemplate and Radiate. Those words still resonate with me, but with a new year right around the corner, it feels good to have a new word to latch onto, a sort of guidepost, or theme. So in the spirit of really listening to myself--to what I want to keep, where I want to go, how I want to live--my word for 2016 will be Intuit.
Because I want to feel--deeply--what's important to me. I want to keep the most sacred things close.
I wish you a wonderful new year, filled with all of the people who mean the most to you. And thank you so very, very much for visiting me here!
I returned from a week in Connecticut and dove right into teaching a new session of my Art of Photography e-course. (Yet another lovely group of students, thank heavens--and knock on wood! I'm enjoying them immensely.) Before I get back into the full swing of blogging, I thought I'd treat you to the AMAZING work of my students from the most recent session of my nature photography course, How to Take Better Photos of Nature and the World Around You.
Whenever I share these exhibitions of student work, I feel like I need to point out that these are not professional photographers--which I think you'll find even more impressive after you look through these gorgeous images. I'm sorry that I couldn't include every student's work from the course--this was my largest class yet (I'm so very grateful for that!) and I don't want to crash your computers by loading lots and lots of images!
Okay, ready to have your socks knocked off? Drumroll, please...
Flower and Butterfly by Sam Wolf, Abington, Pennsylvania
Old Barn by Jean Jagodzinski, North St. Paul, Minnesota
Find Your Peaceful Place by Pat Bourke, Victoria, British Columbia
Bee in White Flowers by Amanda Robichaud, Hopkinton, Massachusetts
Purple Blooms in the Golden Hour by Tracy Van Houten, Pasadena, California
Butterfly and Blooms by Nancy Hadden, Forsyth, Georgia
Flower in the Style of Georgia O'Keefe by Sue Knopp, Colorado Springs
Yellow Blooms by Amy Jo Kellington, Fremont, California
Well, were your socks knocked off? Mine certainly were! Thank you so much to my wonderful students--first, for being such a pleasure to have "in class" and second, for allowing me to share your beautiful work here today. (You all rock!)
If you're interested in taking my online nature photography course the next time it runs, email me at [email protected] and I'll notify you when enrollment opens!
If you're up for a photography challenge, I've got a good one for you: BIRDS!
Those little fellows are not easy models...
...especially the smaller variety of flittery-jittery birds...
...when they're flying in and out of a bird-feeder for snacks...
...on a very windy, snowy day!
Winter is an ideal time for bird photography--the leaves are off the trees, making the birds easier to spot. But I didn't realize it was so difficult to get good, clear, close-up shots of birds until I set out to do it earlier this week. After some trial and error, I did manage to squeeze out a few decent shots, so here's what I recommend if you'd like to give bird photography a try:
1. Have LOTS of bird seed handy. Think of yourself as the craft services table during the photo shoot--you've got to keep the performers well-fed and happy!
2.If you're shooting from indoors, remove the window screens for the clearest shots. (Don't forget to wipe off any smudges on the panes.)
3. Some birds prefer to eat off the ground instead of from a feeder, so scatter some seeds in a few strategic spots. I noticed this ground-flocking behavior with one of my favorite types of birds, Juncos, and when I looked them up in my "Birds of New Jersey" field guide, it said exactlythat: They're most comfortable on the ground.
4. Be patient. Really, reeeeeally patient. Once you fill up the feeders or scatter the seeds, the birds won't just start flocking to them. They take their sweet time to scout out the scene and make sure it's safe from predators.
5. You might need to haul out your extra camera equipment for the quickest or the darkest birds. It was hard for me to capture the details of the jittery Juncos until I started using my telephoto lens mounted on a tripod.
6. Hold your breath when you're ready to shoot. It helps to really slow down your breathing and relax while photographing birds, because they're already giving little twitchy movements--you don't want to add your own!
7. Two photographers are better than one. It's not easy to capture the perfect shot with birds, who flutter away at the slightest sound or motion. If you miss a good shot, your shooting partner might have caught it. My son (who got a new camera for his birthday) took the following two photographs and I gave them the finishing touches in editing. (Didn't he do a great job?)
Tufted Titmouse
White-Breasted Nuthatch
All in all, it was a fun few days of bird-watching with my son, and I think this is just the beginning of our bird photography jaunts. Sometimes, it's good to fly out of your comfort zone and learn a thing or two!
How 'bout you? Have you ever tried your hand at bird photography? Feel free to share or link to your own bird pictures in the comments section--I'd love to take a look!
Last Wednesday, I wrote about 5 Things to Cut Loose for a Simpler Life and I'm happy to say that I'm still on the simplicity kick! Here are five more things to consider ditching:
1. Plastic bags. Not only are plastic bags a pain in the neck for the planet, but they also have a way of exploding out of your kitchen drawers and closets, building up like a runaway snowball on its way to an avalanche. So, take that gigantic heap of flimsy bags to your local grocery store and put it in their plastic bag recycling bin, buy a few canvas bags, keep them in the front seat of your car, and just say no to the plastic bags for good.
2. Magazines. As somebody who used to be addicted to new magazines, I can tell you with 100% confidence that my life has gotten much easier by just borrowing them from the library. No more dusty stacks spilling all over the floor to contend with, and passing along copies of magazines instead of buying them is like the ride-sharing equivalent of commuting.
3. Coupons. Unless the coupon is for a dollar or more (few are!), skip them altogether. Is it really worth your time, kitchen drawers, and wallet space to cut out coupons for ten cents off? Don't you forget to use them anyway? Just sign up for a savings card at your supermarket and be done with the coupons.
4. Big-box store memberships. If you have the admirable self-control to walk into a store like Costco or Sam's Club and pick up only the 50-lb. bag of cat litter that you went in for, then by all means, keep your membership. It's very green to buy in bulk and cut down on packaging. The problem arises when these stores lure you into buying things you do not need at all, filling up your house like a hoarder on speed. Do you really need a mega-box of stuffing mix? Five hundred pens at once? A gallon of pepper? Simplify your life by buying just a little more than you'll really need until the next shopping trip at the (regular-sized) store. Remember: It's not a bargain if you don't need it.
5. Salon hair color. I used to have my hair lightened at salons, and my goodness, how I wish I could get back all of those two-hour chunks of time that I spent with my hair wrapped in tin foil, looking like an extra from "Lost in Space." Yes, I squeezed in some magazine-reading time in the chair, but now that I'm coloring my hair at home, the whole process is done in less than a half hour--a half hour while I'm doing more important things than reading about who's dating whom in the entertainment world.
Are you 5 for 5 yet? What have you cut out of your life to simplify it?
This post, from January 2013, just got a little face-lift for a re-post, because (1) the facts remain largely the same--the weather is c-c-cold!; (2) many of you didn't see it the first time around, as the blog was still in diapers; and (3) I'm putting the finishing touches on my nature photography e-course this week. So, without further ado...
Today's guilty confession from this nature-loving blog girl: I haven't really been outside for a week. There, I've said it. In my defense, the temperature in the mornings has been hovering between 4 and 8 degrees--Fahrenheit, not Celsius--with a bitter, bone-chilling, unrelenting wind. What I've learned from this run of really, really cold weather is that I'd make a terrible Canadian. Or Chicagoan, for that matter. I'm half-Swedish, so you'd think I could handle the cold by genetics alone, but my other half is Italian, so it all evens out.
Most of the snow has been covered with a thick sheet of ice, so simply walking around outside has become an extreme sport. When I took our books back to the library yesterday, I promptly fell flat on my back, feet whipped out from under me, on a sheet of black ice. I was somehow heart-warmed to hear a total stranger blurt out a blue streak of obscenities in raw, unadulterated concern for me as he rushed over, lickety-split, to help me up. "You're lucky that you're not an old lady--you would have been TOAST!" he gasped in relief after I assured him that I was fine.
Other than still walking the dog four times a day (not as far as usual), I just haven't had the same get-up-and-go to get out there. My blogger friend Debi at Go Explore Nature (whom I told you about in 10 Green "Gifts" That Won't Cost You a Dime) has been on a mission this month to post a suggestion every single day for getting outdoors with the kids. (Debi lives in L.A., mind you.) She has some very clever and creative suggestions, even for cold weather, and I plan on following many of them...as soon as the temperature inches up into the double digits again.
But until then, here's what I'm doing to appreciate nature...
As soon as I open the blinds, I watch the sun rising. It rises a little after 7 a.m. now---not such an ungodly hour. When I wake up the kids, they watch the sun rise with me. Peaceful.
As I eat my breakfast, after the kids have gone off to school, I watch the large herd of white-tailed deer wandering out of the woods for their own breakfasts, or cozying up along our stone wall in the back yard, shielding themselves from the wind. I saw this momma deer keeping a watchful eye on her fawn while pretending to relax. (I could relate to her.)
Another doe, pictured below, seems to have bitten into something that bit her back--a thorny bush, perhaps. See her tongue split in half and hanging out? Her tongue stayed out, flapping limply in the wind. Poor thing!
I am a firm believer in "a room with a view", so the desk in my office faces a window where I can watch the day unfolding outside. If I stared at a computer screen all day without these visual breaks of nature, I would not be a happy camper and I'm sure I'd need eyeglasses much thicker than the ones I own now.
When I do get outside for the dog-walks, I often hear Canadian Geese overhead. I marvel at their V formations and the way the leader honks to the others to guide them along, and they honk right back in response. (Nice teamwork, guys!)
When it's too cold to go out at night, we can still gaze at the stars from the warmth of our bedrooms. Tonight we found Orion, and my son re-read the story behind the constellation. My favorite constellation has always been the Pleiades, or Seven Sisters, so that's the first thing I seek out. We also study the phases of the moon--my daughter is a bit obsessed. ("The moon! The mooooooooooon!" she shrieks whenever it's full.)
In the daytime, we can look out on our forest and see what's afoot or aflutter. We keep our two plexiglass bird-feeders well-stocked with seeds, so from the kitchen and master bedroom, we can watch who's flying in for a bite. (Below: Tufted Titmouse; Black-capped Chickadee.)
It's helped us enormously that we bought an easy-to-use field guide for birds of New Jersey a few years back. Sure, we already knew the Blue Jays, Cardinals, and Chickadees, but now we also know what a Dark-eyed Junco is--turns out we have LOTS of those little cuties!
So, yes--we are indoors for now, but we are still finding our own ways to appreciate the Great Outdoors.
Your turn:How do you appreciate nature from indoors? Please share in the comments section below.
Don't get left out in the cold! Register now for my March photography e-course, "How to Take Better Photos of Nature and the World Around You."Learn more and register here.
Sometimes, it's hard to believe we live in the most densely populated state (that's New Jersey, for first-time visitors here). Especially when our house backs up to a forest and we have all manners of wildlife parading through our yard on a regular basis. We just never know what creatures will pop up looking for their next meal--it's like our own personal petting zoo, minus the petting part! After all, these are wild animals we're talking about here: A little red fox curled up for a nap in our back yard; a red-bellied woodpecker knock-knock-knocking at a tree for a buggy breakfast; a large herd of white-tailed deer making its daily commute between the forest and the neighborhood yards, munching heartily on our poor shrubs. (Yes, I know the deer have to eat, too, and my goodness, they're the picture of grace and beauty. I just wish they wouldn't gorge on my lilac bushes.)
The "Parade of Animals" is a bit like a traveling classroom. Whenever I start to wonder things like "what are those gigantic brown birds sitting on top of our house?", a Googling session ensues...
...and pretty soon, I'm learning that turkey vultures (so that's what they are!) eat almost exclusively carrion (elegant word for "roadkill"), and glide through the air on thermals (warm air drafts), sniffing out their next meal. These scavenger birds play an important role in the ecosystem, stemming the spread of disease--we've taken to calling them "Nature's Clean-up Crew." Some cultures believe they are sacred animals that release the soul from the body of the deceased animal, which is a rather poetic way to look at it, don't you think?
My Birds of New Jersey Field Guide tells me the turkey vulture is generally mute, making only the occasional grunt or groan. (Personally, I haven't heard any grunting or groaning emanating from the roof, but I'm glad I'm prepared for it!) I also learned that the reason our turkey vulture friends can stand for long stretches of time on the roof with their wings spread out wide is because they're drying themselves in the sun--a behavior that often happens after a cold and rainy day. I highly recommend getting a bird guide for your state or region, preferably one that groups the pages by feather color (such as the one linked above), so you can quickly figure out what's having a snack at your birdfeeder or sunning itself on your roof. (Kids, especially, love this little detective game.)
City-dwelling friends occasionally ask us if we're nervous about living in "black bear country", in a neighborhood where I fought off a coyote that wanted to eat my dog for breakfast. Yes, living in close proximity to wildlife has its (rare) heart-pounding moments, but mostly, it's immensely interesting and gratifying. And the heart of the matter is this: I'm much more nervous that my great-grandchildren won't know what it's like to live in such a place, with a large array of wild animals roaming freely through the back yard, making their way out of the wonder-filled woods.
Your turn: How frequently do you see wildlife where you live? What's the most unusual animal you've ever seen outside of a zoo? Please share in the Comments section below. If you are reading this post via email subscription or mobile device, click on the title or go to www.JoyfullyGreen.com from a computer to see the comments and leave one of your own. (Don't forget to click the box for subscribing to comments so you can follow the conversation.)
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Isn't it amazing (and downright merciful) how many opportunities Mother Nature gives us to start a new chapter? Winter with its blank slate of fresh, white snow and New Year's resolutions; spring with its hopeful blooms and closet clean-outs; summer with its slower pace and leisurely vacations; and now autumn--all bursting with vibrant leaves, crisp apples and comical pumpkins, new teachers and sharpened pencils, cooler air scented with cozy fireplaces, and the clearest blue skies. With each season, it seems like we're perpetually beginning.
In keeping with this theme, I'm working on exciting new projects for this blog, which I'll unveil within the next couple of months. Here's a clue: Two of them have to do with photography, which is becoming more and more my favorite passion. (I don't want to call it a "hobby"--for me, the word "hobby" always conjures up messing around in basements, creating a lot of sawdust and glued-on rickrack, and doesn't convey any deep or lasting sense of interest.)
Continuing in the spirit of Grand Beginnings for fall, I went to a wedding in Montauk last weekend. Montauk is at the very end of the Hamptons, and is completely "un-Hamptons-ish", which is to say that it doesn't put on any airs. The groom, an effortlessly charming fellow whom I've long-called "one of the last of the great New York bachelors", said it was fitting that he would have a beginning that started at "The End." In perfect harmony with the evening, two swans glided past the ceremony on a mirror of water, as if on cue, modeling pure grace and supreme elegance in the way that only swans can. You cannot buy better wedding decorations than these...
I have one more beginning for fall, but this one is for you to try. It's an easy, inexpensive switch that will make a big impact for years to come. This season, perhaps as an homage to the lovely trees, switch from paper napkins to cloth napkins. We haven't bought paper napkins in years and we don't miss them at all. (I guess you could call me a "woman of the cloth.") If you buy a good stash of cloth napkins (or sew them yourself, if that's your hobby passion), you will be set for years of use (or more specifically, re-use). They generally can pass through more than one (unmessy) meal for your family if you keep them in their settings at the table, so you don't need to fret about the ever-growing Laundry Mountain. Buy a big enough supply and use them for parties, too--they are so much more elegant (and much more economical). There's really no need for paper napkins, and the trees--with their beautiful leaves most resplendent in fall--will thank you.
Your turn: What new leaf are you turning over for fall? Any big changes in the air? Have you made the switch to cloth napkins at your house? Please share in the Comments section below. If you are reading this post via email subscription or mobile device, click on the title or go to www.JoyfullyGreen.com from a computer to see the comments and leave one of your own. (Don't forget to click the box for subscribing to comments so you can follow the conversation.)
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While I was away on my Vineyard vacation, I got the lovely news that Cher at the always-inspiring Radical Farmwives and her co-bloggers, Robin and Coree, had nominated this very blog for a Liebster Award. "What on earth is a Liebster and why is it an award?" Good question--and one I asked myself! In a nutshell: A Liebster Award is a shout-out to a favorite fellow blogger who is new (or new-ish)--somebody you think deserves a bigger spotlight. You ask them 10 questions and then they pass on the "blog love" to their own favorites with 10 questions of their own. (If you delight in reading rules, you can click on one of the related articles at the bottom which explains the Liebster Award in glorious detail.)
Here are my answers (JG=Joyfully Green) to the questions from Radical Farmwives (RF):
RF: Do you read fiction or non-fiction?
JG: Both. I'm one of those people who's always leap-frogging among several books at a time. Currently, I'm reading The History of Love, Sleep Thieves, and Simplicity Parenting (again). Usually, I'm also reading something by Thomas Hardy, Edith Wharton, Jane Austen, or Henry James, four of my faves. And I'm forever thumbing through my copies of Walden and The Wind in the Willows (my favorite children's book).
RF: What do you eat for breakfast?
JG: I often skip lunch altogether, but I could eat breakfast foods 24/7. As I said in my post called Busy Bees and a Lesson in Patience, I'm currently on a kick of oatnut toast topped with chocolate hazelnut spread and seasonal fruit. Not the healthiest with the spread, but I just pretend I'm being "very French" by having chocolate on bread for breakfast!
RF: What is your favorite tree?
JG: Any tree that's a survivor. A few months back, I wrote about a pear tree in our yard that looks like a big, lopsided Valentine because it has survived quite a few horrible brushes with the weather. I love that tree, but fear for it in every storm.
RF: How long can you go without checking your phone or email?
JG: Phone: Days. Email: Minutes. I haven't been into phone chatting since my early teens, but I'm fairly obsessive about checking email, especially since I started blogging last year. (I'm working on controlling the addiction.)
RF: What is your favorite body of water?
JG: The Dead Sea in Israel. Without a doubt, floating on the Dead Sea was the most relaxing hour of my entire life. (You can see some lovely shots of our Israel trip, here.)
RF: Name a place you haven’t been that you would like to go.
JG: New Zealand. Opportunities for amazing landscape photos and a chance to bump into the genius who is Neil Finn (tragically under-rated in this country).
RF: Do you feel like you are living in the most appropriate time period for your personality/values?
JG: Probably. I gravitate to books about England and New York in the mid-1800's to early 1900's, but I know I'd hate the (lack of) hygiene and the corsets. Plus, as I learned when I read Garbage Land, until the early 1890's, there were roughly 100,000 wild pigs that roamed the streets of New York and lived on the garbage thrown out the windows! (And I thought the rats were bad when I lived there...)
RF: If you could invite anyone to join you for a dinner party, who would it be?
JG: I would need to have a very, very big dinner party because I couldn't choose just one person for this question. If they were still alive: Henry David Thoreau, Leonardo da Vinci, my parents, and my grandparents. Alive: Cory Booker (saw him speak in our town--the man will be President someday, you can put money on it); Guy Kawasaki (saw him speak at BlogHer '13--brilliant and hilarious); Emma Thompson, Michael Pollan, Ricky Gervais, Kate Winslett, Keira Knightley, and Steve Carrell.
RF: What would you serve?
JG: I go through phases with cooking--I vacillate from being a wannabe Nigella Lawson to serving the whole family cold cereal for dinner! These days, with everything going on, I can barely plan a weekly menu for my family, so this question gives me too much agita. I do know I'd bake this bread, the easiest and most gorgeous on earth.
RF: What is/was your most extreme dietary choice (vegan/freegan/raw)?
JG: Aside from the occasional strip of bacon (so hard to resist) at a buffet, I haven't eaten meat in about fourteen years. Just poultry and fish. I'm a sucker for seafood.
Thanks again to Cher, Coree, and Robin at Radical Farmwives for the nod! It was good fun indeed to answer your questions for me. (And readers, do check them out. One of my very favorite blog reads of all time is Wings by Cher.)
I'm paying it forward with the Liebster Award to the following bloggers, all of whom are new(ish) and offer posts I can't wait to read as soon as they arrive in my in-box. (I'll be highlighting a few of the more established blogs in my year-end review. Spoiler Alert: Fragments from Floyd and We Only Do This Once will be included in that list.) Drumroll, please...
Your turn, readers: What blogs do you read and love? Why? Please share in the Comments section below. If you are reading this post via email subscription or mobile device, click on the title or go to www.JoyfullyGreen.com from a computer to see the comments and leave one of your own. (Don't forget to click the box for subscribing to comments so you can read any replies to you.)
