Y’all, I’m having some balance issues. As Chicken Apocalypse has continued (too many born, not enough coops) and now I’m headed right into planting season, I reckon I’ve given over all of my remaining energy to my job and the podcast. But . . . I do miss blogging.
Read MoreY’all. I have baby chicks ‘ary damn where.
It all started with a little trip to Tennessee, the holidays, and the lack of give-a-damn when I got back home. There Harriet sat—on three eggs—and I just couldn’t bring myself to take them from her . . . which was my first mistake. Shit fire and fall back in it: broody hens steal eggs.
It’s All Souls Day, the Day of the Dead, one of my favorite times of the entire year. As much as I celebrate the veil getting thin well before this day—and well beyond it—the mindfulness of lighting a special candle, wrapping myself up in my Grandma’s afghan, and pulling up to my ancestral roots in front of a roaring fire was exactly what my soul had been hankering for this year. It’s just so . . . purposeful. Mindful. Full.
Read MoreMy name is Seba. And I'm a kitchen witch. This should come as a surprise to no one. My grandma taught me that food could work as a love conduit—and I’ve never forgotten the lesson.
Read MoreWe are in the dog days of late summer down here in the Deep South. Every afternoon, there’s another heat advisory—not that we need warned. Southerners can feel the heat threatening to scream at the day after their first cup of coffee.
I reckon I’ve had small driftwood moments like this. Not yet ready to shuffle off this mortal coil, the universe has been letting me “practice.”
Read MoreBrain size and soul size have literally nothing to do with each other.
Read MoreIf I did this, rebuilt a bit, it wouldn’t be quite the same. It couldn’t be for you, readers. It would have to be for me.
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