About

We move often, post entries occasionally. Sometimes intrepid travelers, sometimes reclusive homebodies.  New parents (and loving that). Very bookish and nerdylicious.

I write about bits of family, crafty goodness, and the little things that perch in my soul and make life sing.

fifteen toes

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

-Emily Dickinson (1830-86)




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