Sara By The Season

08/31/2024

At the beginning of Covid quarantine, I decided I was determined to find a method of keeping up with sourdough that worked for me. Now after four years of making sourdough every week, I think I can say I've found a method that maximizes taste and results with the minimal amount of time and effort. My sourdough isn't going to win any awards, but it tastes consistently delicious and works with our busy life....

At the beginning of Covid quarantine, I decided I was determined to find a method of keeping up with sourdough that worked for me. Now after four years of making sourdough every week, I think I can say I’ve found a method that maximizes taste and results with the minimal amount of time and effort....

08/29/2024

My summer list of what I'm learning and loving lately up on the newsletter!

what I'm learning and loving lately

05/08/2024

“Some humans say trees are not sentient beings,
but they do not understand poetry.” —Joy Harjo

04/24/2024

“Once there were songs for everything, Songs for planting, for growing, for harvesting, For eating, getting drunk, falling asleep, For sunrise, birth, mind-break, and war. For death (those are the heaviest songs and they Have to be pried from the earth with shovels of grief). Now all we hear are falling-in-love songs and Falling apart after falling in love songs.”
Joy Harjo

03/21/2024

Sun makes the day new.
Tiny green plants emerge from earth.
Birds are singing the sky into place.
There is nowhere else I want to be but here.
I lean into the rhythm of your heart to see where it will take us.
Joy Harjo

03/14/2024

“Take a breath offered by friendly winds. They travel the earth gathering essences of plants to clean.

Give it back with gratitude.

If you sing it will give your spirit lift to fly to the stars’ ears and back.

Acknowledge this earth who has cared for you since you were a dream planting itself precisely within your parents’ desire.”

Joy Harjo

02/28/2024

“Being at the edge of ruin and discovery can be the same place.”

Jo Harjo

02/23/2024

A lament for a beloved place and some thoughts on what's required of us moving forward in this week's newsletter:

a lament

02/21/2024

Grant fell in love with our place long before I did. That’s a longer story for another day. But the first time I remember thinking “maybe this could work” was the week before we closed and brought the kids out to walk around. There was (is) an old swing by the creek that we couldn’t get Maeve away from, so I pushed her while the boys explored. The sun started setting, and the way the light bent in through the trees made me feel all the things. It was a little (lot) like falling in love.

We buried some of our beloved dog, Roxy, as well as many beloved chickens. We had picnics and bonfires and many a sunset stroll in this spot.

I don’t have many pictures of the spot that we came to call the “best light corner” because the camera never did it justice and maybe because it was a bit too sacred for pictures anyway.

I came home from work tonight to half of it decimated with the rest going tomorrow because the city and county planners can’t be bothered to consider obvious downstream consequences or see beyond dollar signs.

I loved this particular spot. So much. I grieve it like I would a treasured old friend because it was.

02/16/2024

Late winter is for me. Reflecting resources and motivation in this week’s newsletter. Link to subscribe in my profile.