This fall, I’m teaching three writing classes designed to help you slow down, look closely, and discover new ways of seeing the world through story. Whether you’re inspired by family memories, the beauty of nature, or the colors that shape our emotions, each class offers space for creativity, connection, and self-discovery.

One morning not long ago, an armadillo showed up in my garden. It pricked up its ears but didn’t move, staring up at me with dark eyes from beneath a tangle of melon vines.

No More Tangles, a product my mother treated like a magic elixir, believing that with a spritz and plenty of persistence, my wild and stubbornly tangled long hair could be tamed.

I made a new friend yesterday. Her name is Rosemary, and I only met her because she liked my shirt. A pink t-shirt, to be exact, embroidered with the words, “I read banned books.”

“Close your eyes and make a wish

exhale, slow and steady

a little puff of hope.”

“Even when I am silent, my voice can still be heard.”

The first time I felt the sting of discrimination at Princeton, it surprised me. As a woman, I felt welcomed.

“We should all be peacemakers.”

Rain falls on the cement sidewalk where acorns have begun to sprout in the cracks — New trees that will see more storms

Empty nesters tend to leap headfirst into something new, taking on a new job or travel schedule or volunteer position as soon as their child is out the door. The thinking is that being fully occupied can make it hurt a little less. But it won’t.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately