Hey, what happened to my blog? I used to write about gardening, canning, cooking and things here. I suppose I wrote about them because there were so few others who were too. But today the web is thick with full time talented bloggers taking gorgeous photos of their food, crafting wonderful recipes, gardening every day and writing plenty of how-tos. I love reading them. I think blogging has been a way for me to document my own learning and discovery, and I refer to my own blog when I'm trying to find a favorite recipe. Like spinach enchiladas. Or scones. But the newness has settled, I suppose: it isn't 2005 anymore.

Writing my monthly column over at PQ Monthly has helped me focus my editorial voice a bit, while growing to include my work with personal essays. And that's where my heart's at. This tapping into my inner voice, and allowing it to flow through my fingers onto the screen. I journey through memories of scent, feelings, explorations and emotions. I love when the stories come easily, but respect that it's not all of the time. When they do come, it's early in the morning, when the world is quiet, and my foggy brain from sleeping begins to awaken with a cup of coffee. It's before I do my to-do list, or speak a single word that day, or venture out into the world. I'm most in touch with my inner voice then, and perhaps my dreaming mind. I wonder if it's a transition from slumber to alert that makes for these times.

Whatever it is, I respect it. It was in this time I wrote my most recent column, joining memories of a childhood place with current explorations in the forests of Oregon. And a haunting photo of a conejo—rabbit—being rescued from a wildfire in Southern California. You can read it here.