The grasses sighed wearily and retreated back into the snow. “They’re not dead,” I said. “Not completely, not around you.” “They are not dead.” Karin sounded as tired as the grasses had. “But they are dying. Tell me, Liza, do you believe that spring will come?” Why ask me? I was no plant mage. “The […]
“What do you believe?” Read More »
When I begin to despair or feel overwhelmed by national news, one of the most helpful responses I know is to turn my focus back to my local community and local politics—not just because local events have a more immediate impact on me, but also because I can have a more immediate impact on local
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President Biden. Vice President Harris. And all Americans. These words remain the work of all of us: “I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully and to the best of my ability, preserve, p/rotect and defend the Constitution of the United States.“
My essay, “Had motherhood ruined my favorite childhood stories?” is featured in Modern Parent this week. As I snuggled in with my husband and my then-first-grader to watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, I looked forward to sharing my childhood memories of Rankin and Bass’ claymation classic. Within five minutes of pressing play, though, all I could think
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The first time I told my daughter the truth about Santa Claus, she was three years old. She came home from child care full of excitement and anxiety, hoping, hoping, hoping she’d been good enough for Santa to come. We’d never really talked about Santa in our Jewish-Quaker household, though we did visit my in-laws for a
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Bones of Faerie, the first book of my Bones of Faerie trilogy, is about uncontrolled growth: plants that bloom in every season, crops that fight their harvesters, trees that seek human blood and bone to root in. Faerie Winter, the second book of the trilogy, tells the opposite story. It’s about endless winter, failure to
“Do you believe that spring will come?” Read More »
Can we take a moment to recognize the strength and resilience of elementary-school-aged kids during this pandemic? They’re putting on their masks and their backpacks and walking into school on their own every morning, even the littlest ones, whose parents couldn’t follow them on campus for their first day of kindergarten this year. They’re learning
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Let me not to the counting of true ballotsAdmit impediments. Votes are not votesThat alter when they alteration find,Or bend with the remover to remove.O no! They are an ever-fixed markThat wait on counting, patient and unshaken.They are a star for every governing bark,Their precious worth shall not be takenBy those impatient fools who lightly
Or, Mother Goose for the Covid era. Twinkle twinkle little star,How I wonder how you are.Up above the world so high,Socially distanced in the sky.Twinkle twinkle little star,Text and tell me how you are. Little Miss Muffet,Sat on a tuffet,Waiting for curds and whey.But the Instacart driver,Came unmasked to find her,And frightened Miss Muffet away.
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It didn’t have to be like this. I wasn’t happy when schools closed last March, but I understood and accepted it—accepted that we had to hunker down for a few months to get this virus under control. By August, the worst would be over, and my daughter would be back in school. For a month,
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