Lately, my days have been a jumble of work (chop. chop. chop.) and wonder (the world is green! and there are spring shoots) and worry (even BIG kids need their ma). Easter departed as quickly as it seemed to arrive. And for the first time in 20-something years, there were no chocolate rabbits. I was in Toronto with my two older kids while my teens were holding down the fort—without choco fortification. I felt slightly guilty about not supplying the goods, and instead turning my attention to a weekend getaway. While it’s true that teenagers don’t actually need a basket filled with stuff-and-chocolateage old rituals aren’t easily brushed off. Especially when a little piece of your heart is attached to them. I don’t know if buying post-Easter was any sort of redemption, but damn, speckled mini eggs pack a whole lot of magnificence. And, of course, you eat even more when you’ve snagged them on sale.

good egg

Back to the jumble part. It seems I haven’t been able to carve out much time to spend here. I’ve truly missed that. Missed you. But the truth is, that for a very long time now, I’ve resisted blogging simply for the sake of it. I buck hard against the notion that content has to be churned out on the daily whether it’s fulfilling or not to create it. I want to share content when there’s nothing I’d rather do than pick up my camera, or I’m at the mercy of words that seem to furiously tumble out. I want to be here to share ideas and images that energize my spirit, and that I’m besotted with. I can’t crank out content devoid of spark. If it doesn’t feel good—really good—I don’t want to slog away aimlessly. I’m not beholden to sponsors or stats or anyone’s expectations except my own. That’s tremendously freeing. I think that blogging, like so many other personal expressions, has a natural ebb and flow of creative energy. There are times when we’re fully engaged and inspired. And there are others when we reach a resting place that commands us to pause and reflect on our intention and ability to sustain ourselves. Right now, I’m trying to free up a large part of myself for my four kids, each of whom needs something different. And all of which requires my compassion and careful attention. In response to that—and the necessity of grabbing as much culinary work as I can as catering season ignites—I need to take care of myself a little better.

I’m glad you’re here. Truly. It’s your connection that makes this place special for me. I hope you know that! And I’ll see you again soon (ish). X