Once, I Feared Quiet Fridays
Just a book, a warm drink, maybe a few soft pages written by lamplight. I no longer perform belonging. I inhabit it.
Mabel Toad and the Out-of-Time Garden
In Widdershins Wood, Mabel Toad tends a garden that grows sideways and out of season — wild with marigolds, surprises, and the slow company of a snail named Thimble. The neighbors worry she’s late. Mabel knows she’s just not rushed. A soft, slow story for lovers of mossy corners, quiet triumphs, and late bloomers.
The Cows at the End of the Lane
Lady Bergamot reflects on quiet nature walks, cottagecore wisdom, and the comfort of cows named Fern and Rosie at the edge of spring.
The Girl Who Lived in Chapters
I didn’t always fit in. But I always knew where I was in a book. This is a story about quiet corners, daydreams, and the soft world of being a young reader.
The Conversation We Didn’t Have (#4)
We spoke only once—but it carried more weight than any confession. A luncheon, a glance, a silence that said far too much. I felt undone in yellow gloves.
The Ones Who Stay Home
Some of us bloom best in stillness. A gentle essay about being quiet, staying home, and creating a life of unnoticed, everyday magic.
To the Room I Once Called Mine
A poetic letter to a childhood bedroom—pink walls, hidden diaries, farm soil, softball bruises, and all the beginnings a girl could carry in one small room.
To Jack and Annie (and the Magic Tree House)
They never knew me — but I knew them. A quiet letter to Jack and Annie, from a girl who once believed a tree house might appear just for her.
The Rain at the Gate (#3)
We spoke of nothing. But the rain knew. A shared pause at the garden gate, and the storm that followed — not in the sky, but within.
To the Teacup with the Cracked Rim
She’s chipped. Faded. A little fragile. But I always reach for her first. A love letter to the teacup that taught me the quiet art of holding gently.
The Hour After He Left (#2)
We barely spoke. But I remember everything. A journal entry of glances, almosts, and the gentle ache of wanting something not meant to be touched.
The Ghost of Our Almost (#1)
A quiet, romantic letter to a love that never became. A poetic reflection on timing, silence, and the ache of what could have been.
The Tale of the Frog Who Refused to Leap
He did not leap. He simply listened. A quiet tale about stillness, patience, and the soft magic of choosing your moment — when it matters most.
On Becoming Soft Again
Once, I believed softness was something to outgrow. Now I know better. A quiet evening entry on gentleness, lace-edged strength, and the girl I used to be.
To the Woman I Used to Be (On a Rainy Afternoon)
A tender letter to a former self—full of longing, memory, and quiet grace. A personal essay about identity, change, and the ache of who we once were.
