A Gathering of Poetry: October 2025

It’s the third Thursday of the month, which means it’s time for A Gathering of Poetry - welcome!

There are plenty of mornings when I open the New York Times, NPR, or the BBC online, glance at the headlines, and think, I wish we didn’t live in such unprecedented times. I’ll admit that back when there wasn’t a new crisis every ten minutes, I took things for granted. I assumed the world was humming along about as smoothly as it could, and I could focus on my family and the small stuff of everyday life.

These days, I take very little for granted and often find myself longing for an ordinary day, just a calm, uneventful, ordinary day. This poem captures that feeling beautifully for me, and maybe it will for you, too. 

 

Ordinary Life

by Barbara Crooker  

This was a day when nothing happened,
the children went off to school
remembering their books, lunches, gloves.
All morning, the baby and I built block stacks
in the squares of light on the floor.
And lunch blended into naptime,
I cleaned out kitchen cupboards,
one of those jobs that never gets done,
then sat in a circle of sunlight
and drank ginger tea,
watched the birds at the feeder
jostle over lunch's little scraps.
A pheasant strutted from the hedgerow,
preened and flashed his jeweled head.
Now a chicken roasts in the pan,
and the children return,
the murmur of their stories dappling the air.
I peel carrots and potatoes without paring my thumb.
We listen together for your wheels on the drive.
Grace before bread.
And at the table, actual conversation,
no bickering or pokes.
And then, the drift into homework.
The baby goes to his cars, drives them
along the sofa's ridges and hills.
Leaning by the counter, we steal a long slow kiss,
tasting of coffee and cream.
The chicken's diminished to skin & skeleton,
the moon to a comma, a sliver of white,
but this has been a day of grace
in the dead of winter,
the hard cold knuckle of the year,
a day that unwrapped itself
like an unexpected gift,
and the stars turn on,
order themselves
into the winter night.

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Crooker, Barbara. "Ordinary Life". Selected Poems. FutureCycle Press, 2015. 

 

You can read more about the poet here. 

 

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Unraveled Wednesday: 10/15/25

I’m happily joining Kat and the Unravelers today, with a completed pair of shortie socks. (Kat is on vacation but Wednesdays are always Unraveled for me.) I tried to take a photo in the wild, but it was disappointing at best.

 This one on Ryan's dining room table is a bit better. 

I'm not sure Jess will be as excited by these as I am, but I knit socks for her before and she hasn't yet said, "Stop knitting me these stupid socks." My idea of a fun time would be to wear contrasting socks as a pair but I like to live on the wild side. :-) I'm back to happily knitting the rainbow scarf, but that might also be finished soon, so I should think about casting on another project - maybe something for Justin for Christmas, but he's a little bit more difficult to knit for than Ryan. 

I finished two books last week. They were both four stars for me but I'll apologize up front since they are both ARCs that won't be published until next February. This Is Not About Us by Allegra Goodman is a beautifully written collection of interconnected vignettes that together form a warm, funny, and deeply human portrait of a family that can’t seem to stop tripping over its own love. The Rubensteins, particularly sisters Sylvia and Helen, anchor the stories, but Goodman widens her lens to include their children and grandchildren, capturing the shifting dynamics, misunderstandings, and enduring bonds that stretch across generations.

Goodman has always had a gift for observing the small gestures and quiet tensions that make family life both maddening and precious. Here, she distills those moments into perfectly honed snapshots, tiny domestic scenes that tell a much larger story about belonging, memory, and forgiveness. Whether she’s writing about an argument over an apple cake or the unspoken expectations between parents and children, Goodman does so with warmth, wit, and compassion.

Though the Rubensteins are a Jewish family, Goodman’s insights into sibling rivalry, parental pressure, and the ache of loss are universal. Readers of any background will recognize their own family in these pages, the love, the stubbornness, and the moments of grace that somehow keep everyone tethered.

This Is Not About Us doesn’t demand to be read in a single sitting, but it rewards those who linger over its pages, letting the connections between stories reveal themselves gradually. A wise, affectionate, and quietly powerful book about the way families fracture and heal again and again.

Thank you to NetGalley and The Dial Press for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on February 10, 2026. 

Sadeqa Johnson’s Keeper of Lost Children showcases her gift for weaving complex histories together with deep emotional resonance. Set in the aftermath of World War II and spanning decades, this novel brings together three seemingly separate lives, Ethel, Ozzie, and Sophia, whose stories eventually converge in unexpected and moving ways.

Johnson’s premise is powerful: she shines light on the “Brown Babies” of postwar Germany, mixed-race children born to Black American soldiers and German women, often left in social limbo in both Germany and the United States, and ties that painful history to questions of belonging and identity in the U.S. Civil Rights era. The sections set in Occupied Germany are particularly vivid; the imagery of ruined cities, loss, and resilience lingers long after reading. Ozzie’s perspective, especially, offers a poignant look at the contradictions of fighting for freedom abroad while facing racism within one’s own ranks.

That said, the novel doesn’t always maintain even pacing. The transitions between timelines can feel abrupt, and at times the emotional impact of one story is diluted by the quick shift to another. Some character motivations, especially Ethel’s, could have used a bit more depth to match the strength of the historical backdrop.

Still, Johnson’s elegant prose and compassion for her characters carry the book. Keeper of Lost Children is both heartbreaking and hopeful, a meditation on motherhood, legacy, and the ways love can endure across distance and time. It is a thoughtful, moving, and worthwhile read for fans of layered historical fiction. This was 3.5 stars for me, rounded up because I learned much more about the mixed-race children born to Black American soldiers and German women and how some of them fared after the war.

Thank you to NetGalley and Simon & Schuster for providing me with a copy of this book. it will be published on February 10, 2026.  

What are you making and reading this week?

A Viewing Recommendation

Netflix’s has a new "series" entitled Famous Last Words. It's based on a Danish series and consists of an interview with a notable figure, but it is not released until after the interviewee's death. In the US, it begins with a powerful, honest episode - an interview with Jane Goodall that was recorded in March of this year and has just been released after her death on October 1. I watched it twice this weekend and found it to be a unique and brave format. It's not merely a tribute, but a living testament to what it means to reflect, reckon, and speak truth as your time on earth winds down. Here's why I found this episode to be exceptional and why I think others' lives will be enriched by watching it. 

• The Power of the Format

One of the most compelling aspects of Famous Last Words is its premise: the interview is conducted while the subject is still alive, but is only made public after their passing. This gives the subject freedom to speak candidly, unburdened by the fear of backlash or revisionism. Out of this raw honesty emerges something deeply intimate: a chance to let someone frame their own legacy, unfiltered.

In Goodall’s case, she approaches the interview with her full humanity, not just as a legend, but as the person who loved, doubted, fought, and hoped. Because of the format, viewers are offered a rare gift: we get to hear her final reflection, on her own terms.

• A Portrait of Integrity, Courage & Vulnerability

Goodall never shied away from speaking truth - about conservation, politics, or humanity. This final interview is no exception. She’s playful, serious, expressive, and unafraid to critique global leaders. Yet she is also vulnerable: she discusses regrets, doubts, love, mortality. That blend of strength and softness makes her even more human and more inspiring if that's possible. 

• Reflective, Not Sensationalist

Rather than sensationalizing the “last words” angle, the show gives space for reflection. The host, Brad Falchuk, frames gentle but probing questions. In the later moments, he leaves the stage entirely so Jane can have a final, uninterrupted address to the audience. It’s a quiet, deliberate choice, and it gives weight to her closing remarks.

• Wisdom Drawn from a Life of Curiosity

Goodall doesn’t offer only sweeping statements. She recounts her childhood, her early days in Africa, her relationship with nature, and small personal stories that ground her worldview in lived experience. She reminds us that a life of curiosity, of caring, of paying attention, is a life well lived.

• A Call to Action & Hope

Despite the gravity of the topic, Goodall’s outlook is not despairing. She emphasizes that every life matters and that we all have a role to play, even when challenges like climate change and species loss loom large. Her final speech is a plea to not give up, to do what we can while on this earth. It’s moving, earnest, and dignified, exactly the tonal balance that turns introspection into motivation.

Famous Last Words: Dr. Jane Goodall is not a conventional documentary, nor a sanitized biopic. It’s more like a final letter, layered, honest, intimate, and deeply human. For fans of Jane Goodall, conservation, or human stories in general, this episode offers something rare: the chance to hear her voice one last time, full of passion, humor, clarity, and hope.

I believe many will walk away from it changed, more reflective, more inspired, more resolved and hopeful. It’s a tribute, a farewell, and a challenge all in one, and I hope you get a chance to watch. 

Red Sky At Morning ...

Sailors take warning! 

Okay, it's pink, but I'm calling it red and hope it means more rain for us this weekend. There is some predicted for Sunday and Monday and I'm keeping my fingers crossed. 

 

Here's hoping you have a wonderful weekend no matter what the weather! 

Unraveled Wednesday: 10/8/25

I’m happily joining Kat and the Unravelers today with one finished sock and a good start on the second. I still need to kitchener the toe on the first one, but I’ll wait until both are done. I’ve finished the heel flap on sock #2 and just need a few quiet minutes to turn the heel.

I snapped a few “sock in the wild” photos at Ryan’s house. His hydrangeas and sedum are blooming, and they made a nicer backdrop than my own parched lawn.  

I’m also still working on the rainbow scarf, but I made myself focus on the socks this week. Otherwise, I'm afraid they’d never get finished.

I did finish a book this week and it was a good one. So Far Gone by Jess Walter is an absorbing, funny, and surprisingly tender novel about one man’s reluctant reentry into a world he thought he’d left behind for good. Rhys Kinnick, once a journalist and now a near-hermit in the Pacific Northwest, finds his solitude upended when his two grandchildren appear on his doorstep, fleeing a father who’s fallen in with a Christian Nationalist militia. When the kids are kidnapped, Rhys, helped by a retired detective and a sharp-tongued ex, has no choice but to face both his past and the fractured country he’s been avoiding.

The setup could easily veer into bleakness or satire, but somehow Walter walks a real tightrope here. The book is very much about Our Present Moment, with political division, disinformation, and despair, without getting you so steeped in the terrors of the far right that it feels more like stress than storytelling. There are moments when it's laugh-out-loud funny, but it never feels like Walter treats his subjects too lightly.

Rhys is a man who can be saved, a man whose ideals and disappointments are equally large, whose disillusionment extends not just to society but to his own moral failings. Walter treats him (and the broken country he mirrors) with empathy and wit. The result is a story that’s humane, sharply observed, and unexpectedly hopeful.

If Beautiful Ruins was Walter’s elegy for ambition, So Far Gone is his meditation on retreat and return, and it proves that running from the world is never the same as healing from it. This one was a solid four stars for me. 

What are you making and reading this week?

 

It's a New Book!

We’re thrilled to announce the Read With Us fall selection: The Antidote by Karen Russell. 

 

 

This truly original book is a Dust Bowl epic from the author of Swamplandia! and Vampires in the Lemon Grove. Russell’s fiction has balanced the mythic and the human, and this newest novel promises both a sweeping historical story, magical realism, and an unsettling mirror of the present.

 

ETA: And now it's also a National Book Award finalist!  

Set in the fictional town of Uz, Nebraska, The Antidote begins on Black Sunday, when one of the most catastrophic dust storms in American history descends upon the Great Plains. But the real storm, Russell suggests, has been gathering for generations. The town is already sinking under the weight of drought, economic despair, and the darker inheritance of its own violent past.

The book follows five unforgettable characters:

• A Prairie Witch whose body serves as a vault for other people’s memories,

• A Polish wheat farmer whose good fortune sours into something sinister,

• His orphaned niece, a basketball prodigy and apprentice witch who is running from her grief,

• A talkative scarecrow with unsettling wisdom, and

• A New Deal photographer whose mysterious, time-bending camera threatens to expose the town’s secrets.

As their stories intertwine, Russell explores what it means for a nation to forget - its history, its sins, and its connections to the land and what it might take to remember. It’s also a novel that feels fiercely relevant, confronting the legacies of environmental collapse and collective denial. In an interview with BookPage, Karen Russell said she wanted to write a story where an apocalyptic future for us isn’t a foregone conclusion. “You can’t imagine a viable future, a world that’s kinder and more just than what we’ve got going today, without returning to the past,” Russell says. This sounds like a book for me.

The hardcover, Kindle, and audio versions of the book are all available from my library without much of a wait, so hopefully we'll all have plenty of time to place a hold, get the book, and read it. The Kindle and paperback versions are priced reasonably from Amazon and the audio version is narrated beautifully by Elena Ray and six others. I'm sure your local bookseller could order a copy for you if you're lucky enough to have a local bookseller. Personally, this sounds like one that I might need to eye-read.

Kym, Carole, and I will be talking about the book, giving additional information, and doing promotional posts throughout November. Discussion day for The Antidote is scheduled for Tuesday, January 6, 2026 at 7:00 pm Eastern time, so mark your calendars. We'll ask questions on our blogs that day and then host the always fun, educational, and entertaining Zoom discussion.

Whether you're new to Karen Russell or already a fan, we hope you'll Read With Us and discover (or revisit since I know some of you have already read it) this amazingly creative novel. 

 

Sometimes Monday ...

 ... is when I hope to start feeling better. 

 

A couple of weeks ago, when I went to CVS for my flu and COVID vaccines, the pharmacist cheerfully suggested I should also make appointments for shingles, pneumonia, RSV, and a Tdap booster. That sounded like an awful lot of poking for one person, but I decided I’d better at least start with the shingles shot while vaccines are still available.

So on Thursday, I got my first shingles vaccine and a Tdap booster. I felt fine until Friday afternoon, when I suddenly needed a three-hour nap and still went to bed at 8:00 p.m. By Saturday I was feeling better, doing laundry, folding clothes, making baked ziti, baking muffins, and paying bills like a responsible adult again.

Then came Sunday. At 5:00 a.m., I woke up with one of the worst headaches I’ve ever had plus a fever. I alternated ibuprofen and Tylenol until things started to ease up a bit, and I managed the rest of the day pretty well, as long as I remembered to keep taking ibuprofen every six hours.

According to GlaxoSmithKline, the shingles vaccine can cause pain, redness, swelling, muscle aches, tiredness, headache, shivering, fever, and an upset stomach. Lucky me, I checked every single box! Still, I’d much rather deal with a few rough days than go through shingles. My mom and sister have both had it, and they were miserable.

So today, I’m determined to start feeling better, maybe with a little help from one last dose of ibuprofen. I’ll have to work up the courage to go back for that second shingles shot (not until December, thankfully), but I will. Otherwise, all this feeling lousy will have been for nothing!

Here’s hoping your Monday is off to a good and healthy start!

 

Please Don't Make Me Drive to Newark Again

On Monday, I was grumbling about having to pick up Justin and John late Tuesday night (well, late for me) at Newark airport. That trip actually went fine and we were home by 1:00 am. But what I didn’t know when I wrote that post was what Monday night itself would hold. 

Jess, who works at a vet’s office, had been told she absolutely had to be at work Tuesday for surgery day. That meant she was flying home from Montana on Monday. She had a friend lined up to pick her up, so all I needed to do was stay awake long enough to hand her the car keys; her car had been parked in our driveway since I dropped her at the airport back on September 20th).

Easy, right?

Well, the first sign of trouble was a text from Jess in Chicago saying her flight was delayed. Cue hours of updates: more delays, more waiting. Eventually, her flight left three hours late, which meant she landed at Newark at 12:45 am. By then, her friend had bailed on the pickup.

She checked Uber and it would have been about $200 for the ride. Beyond the cost, I couldn’t imagine having to climb into a stranger’s car in the middle of the night. So I did what any mom/aunt/friend with a semi-decent sense of responsibility would do and drove to Newark to pick her up. By 1:00 am, Jess and her luggage were in my car, and by 2:00 am, we were home. She still had a 45-minute drive back to her own house, but I went straight to bed because I had to turn around and go back to Newark the very next night.

All told, I made four round trips to Newark in two weeks (each about 110 miles), with the last two trips happening less than 24 hours apart.

The silver lining? I snapped this odd but kind of wonderful photo. I can’t tell exactly what’s happening in it beyond headlights and taillights, I think, but I like it.  

 

Still, I suspect the next time someone asks me to make an airport run, I’ll have no trouble saying no. 

 

Here's hoping you have a lovely, restful weekend! 

 

 

Unraveled Wednesday: 10/1/25

I’m happily joining Kat and the Unravelers today, still plugging away on the sock and adding some length to the rainbow scarf. Inspired by Carole’s “sock in the wild” photo from Monday, I decided to take one of my own while I was checking in on Nugget. 

Nugget, however, had some strong opinions. She felt the first photo was too sock-heavy and far too Nugget-light. (She’s not wrong.) So we tried again, this time featuring Her Highness lounging regally on her pillow in the bow window, supervising the neighborhood and patiently waiting for me to get inside and pay the proper tribute in treats. 

 

As for the knitting itself: I did make a little progress on the sock after Monday’s photo, but the toe still remains to be done (and the second sock). Meanwhile, I measured the scarf and discovered I’ve got a good 24" left to knit. So, I cheerfully joined the third skein and will just keep rainbow-ing along!

 

 

I read two books this week. The Salt Stones was recommended by both Jane and Sarah, and I found it to be a beautifully written meditation on what it means to live in relationships with land, animals, and family. Helen Whybrow’s prose is both lyrical and grounded, weaving together the visceral details of farm life, like birthing lambs in the cold of late winter, battling predators, shearing sheep, and harvesting blueberries, with reflections on stewardship, resilience, and belonging.

What struck me most is the balance between the daily grit of farm work and the larger sense of rhythm and meaning that Whybrow finds in the cycles of life and death. The book doesn’t romanticize shepherding or land stewardship; it acknowledges the exhaustion, the heartbreak, and the constant need to adapt. Yet at the same time, there’s a deep tenderness in the way she connects her care for the sheep and the farm with her love for her family and her responsibility to future generations.

This is not a fast-paced book. it moves in seasons rather than chapters, and its power lies in its quiet accumulation of moments. At times the meditative tone can feel a little heavy, but the writing is gorgeous and the reflections are well worth lingering over.

For readers who enjoy memoirs rooted in place, nature writing that doesn’t shy away from difficulty, and thoughtful explorations of what it means to truly belong to a landscape, The Salt Stones will be a rewarding read. 

Patrick Ryan’s Buckeye is an ambitious, multi-generational story set in Bonhomie, Ohio, beginning in the shadow of World War II and stretching into the postwar boom years. It starts with a single fateful encounter between Cal Jenkins, haunted not by combat but by his inability to serve, and Margaret Salt, a woman with secrets of her own. Around them swirl characters marked by grief, longing, and resilience: Cal’s wife, Becky, whose gift as a seer allows her to bridge the living and the dead, and Margaret’s husband, Felix, whose absence at sea casts a long shadow.

Ryan writes with warmth and empathy, particularly when exploring the ways ordinary people carry extraordinary burdens. The setting feels textured and true, and the novel shines when it zeroes in on the small-town dynamics of Bonhomie, where everyone’s business eventually comes to light. The consequences of one “stolen moment” ripple through the next generation, reminding us how personal choices can shape entire families.

The book’s scope sometimes works against it. The narrative spans decades and multiple perspectives, which occasionally left me wishing for more depth in certain storylines rather than breadth. A few of the characters’ motivations felt underdeveloped, and the pacing sagged in places. Still, there’s no denying the poignancy of Ryan’s themes - loss, love, and the uneasy reconciliation between who we are and who we hoped to be.

Buckeye doesn’t fully deliver on its sweeping ambitions, but it offers a moving and often thought-provoking portrait of ordinary lives intersecting with history. Readers who enjoy family sagas with a touch of mystery and spirituality will likely find it worth the read. 

What are you making and reading this week?

 

Bits and Pieces

As we approach the end of September, I think it's time for a few bits and pieces. 

Making - Grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. John has been in Montana for the past couple of weeks, and that means I haven't had to cook dinner. It's been a lovely vacation from meal preparation. I can eat what I want, when I want, and that's often a grilled cheese sandwich at 8:00 pm. 

Not Looking Forward To - Picking John and Justin up at the airport tomorrow. I'll be glad to see them but their flight is scheduled to arrive at 11:14 pm. That's way past my bed time, and the last time I picked them up from a late flight it arrived more than an hour late. Wish me luck!

Hoping - That the cooler temperatures that are predicted for later this week actually materialize. It's been oddly hot and humid for late September and that makes me unhappy. 

Also Hoping - That my dear deer friends, a doe and her two fawns, don't get hit on the road. They visit my yard almost every afternoon and evening to eat the acorns from our oak trees but they are getting dangerously close to our busy street. 

Watching - The Morning Show and Ted Lasso. I know I'm very late to the party but I decided to subscribe to Apple TV through Amazon and see what I've been missing. The first seasons of both shows were watchable but later seasons weren't quite as good. That's okay; they were acceptable to knit to.

Also Watching - Ratatouille! I bought a Blu-Ray copy and once I got three different remotes figured out, it was a charming and entertaining movie. I started the third skein of rainbow yarn but didn't get a lot of knitting done while I was watching. The movie was good enough that it deserved most of my attention.

Ready For - Ragweed pollen season to be over. I'm not sure when that might happen, but it has really bothered me this year.

Grateful For - Sudafed, ibuprofen, and antihistamine eyedrops. 

Also Grateful - That I was able to get my covid and flu shots a couple of weeks ago. I got both of them at the same time and slept for most of the next day, but I feel much better knowing that my immune system is ready for fall and winter.

Avoiding - Housework, as usual. I have cleaned the bathrooms, but vacuuming and dusting have still not happened. 

Best new word I've learned - Backpfeifengesicht. It's one of those great German compound words and means "a face in need of a slap" or "a face badly in need of a fist". I fear I may need to use this in the days ahead. There's even a song about it. The lyrics are a bit rude but it is a catchy tune. 

How I've felt for much of 2025: 

But I hope your week is off to a good start!
 

The Best Kitty

Jess and Justin are away on vacation this week, so I’ve been looking after their cat, Nugget. I drove Jess to the airport last Saturday, and on the way she mentioned that Nugget had been acting oddly. Normally Nugget cleans her bowl and asks for more, but lately she hadn’t been eating much and was going in and out of the litter box repeatedly. As Jess got out of the car at the airport, she was still telling me where the cat carrier was in the garage, just in case.

This was a bit more responsibility than I had signed up for, but I didn’t really have a choice. On Sunday I went to check on Nugget, and she greeted me at the door with a string of plaintive meows. I asked her how she was doing, and she assured me she was “just fine; please scratch my ears and hand over some treats.”

I cleaned the litter box; Jess had put in special indicator pellets to test for a possible UTI, but nothing had changed color. Then I offered Nugget a small handful of food, which she inhaled before demanding seconds. When I went downstairs to get her treats, I discovered what I think is the real issue: The Interloper.

The Interloper's Pen

Jess recently brought home a kitten from her veterinary office, and Nugget was not amused. She refused to come downstairs where the kitten was and had been avoiding Jess and Justin altogether. Normally I only visit Nugget every other day when I'm cat-sitting, but since Justin's house is 45 minutes away, I wasn’t keen on making a daily 90-minute round trip to deal with the kitten, too. Thankfully, Jess arranged for a friend to watch the kitten this week, giving Nugget a much-needed break.

I spent some time with her, scratching her ears, brushing her fur, giving her treats, and telling her repeatedly that she is, without question, the best kitty. By the time I left, she was happily curled up on her favorite pillow in the front window, purring and clearly enjoying life without the competition.

Jess will be picking up the kitten once she’s back next Tuesday. Until then, I’ll keep visiting Nugget, scratching her ears, and reminding her - this week and every week after - that she truly is the best kitty.

 

Unraveled Wednesday: 9/24/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers with the same rainbow scarf as before. I'll admit that it does look much the same as last week, just longer as I'm approaching the end of the second skein. But this week, I do have a special guest posing with the scarf.

I'm pet-sitting Justin's cat, Nugget, this week, so she was happy to pose for a few WIP photos in exchange for a handful of treats. Then she sat on my lap and let me scratch her ears for an hour or so. I really need to consider getting a cat of my own. My blood pressure would be lower and somehow the news of the world is much easier to face with a warm, purring cat snuggled on your lap.

I only finished one book this week. It was one I had placed on hold way back in July and looked forward to reading for a long time but it turned out not to be my cup of tea. Culpability sets out to be both a tense family drama and a sharp exploration of AI ethics, but it ends up as neither. The premise is promising: a wealthy family’s autonomous minivan collides with another car, forcing each family member to reckon with their role in the tragedy. Unfortunately, the novel quickly becomes a muddle of overwrought family conflict and scattered tech commentary, with neither strand developed in a satisfying way.

The multiple themes are messy and inconsistent. Lorelei’s OCD, Noah’s suspicions, Alice’s chatbot project, Izzy’s shifting behavior, Charlie’s fragile mental health, criticism of entitled teens, AI drones in war zones, a corporate secret from Lorelei’s past, a dull teen romance, and even a fidelity subplot made for too many threads, and none pulled tightly enough. What could have been a sharp study of guilt and responsibility instead veers into soap-operatic twists and a search-and-rescue detour that feels tacked on.

Holsinger has a gift for premise and pacing, but here the execution falls short. The book loses its way, juggling so many competing storylines that the important central question, what it means to be responsible in an age of machine intelligence, gets buried.

A few interesting ideas flicker to the surface, but overall Culpability never fully commits, leaving me with the sense of a novel that wanted to be about everything and ended up being not much at all. Two and a half stars but I can't round up. 

What are you making and reading this week?

 

Sometimes Monday ...

 ... is a good day to say goodbye to my finch friends.

Justin got me this bird feeder last Christmas and I quickly attached it to my kitchen window. That seemed like the perfect place - I could reach it to refill the tray with seed, it was right by my chair at the kitchen table so I could see any birds that visited, and there were no good ways for the squirrels to get into it. I filled it with seed and waited for the birds to find it. 

 

 

And they did find it within a couple of weeks. I've had cardinals, finches, and even a nuthatch or two. After a while it was mainly the finches that came, and they only seemed to eat the sunflower seeds and leave the rest.

 

I finally got the hint and started filling the feeder with unsalted sunflower kernels. John thought I was nuts, but seeing the finches regularly for their breakfast, lunch, and dinner made me happy. 

 

Last week they seemed to be visiting less frequently and by Saturday I realized that I hadn't seen any of them for a couple of days. Even though we're in an area where finches can live here year-round, some house finches from the northeastern U.S. do move south for the winter. I feel a bit sad without their frequent visits and I didn't even say goodbye. (I realize this sounds kind of silly but I do miss them.) I'm just going to keep the feeder filled and hope that maybe some sweet chickadees and other birds find it this winter. Maybe the finches will even return in the spring. 

 

Here's hoping you've got birds at your feeder and any other wildlife in your yard is not eating your landscape plantings.  

 

 

A Gathering of Poetry: September 2025

It's the third Thursday of the month so I'd like to welcome you to A Gathering of Poetry. Poetry has become even more important to me recently, so I've been reading a poem a day from several volumes. This seems to be just about enough to maintain a minimum of mental health, and I came across this one. It spoke to me and I hope it says something to you, too. 

The Orange

by Wendy Cope 

 

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange –

The size of it made is all laugh. 

I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave –

They got quarters and I had a half.

 

And that orange, it made me so happy,

As ordinary things often do

Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.

This is peace and contentment. It's new. 

 

The rest of the day was quite easy.

I did all the jobs on my list

And enjoyed them and had some time over.

I love you. I'm glad I exist.*

 

 

*And what else is there? 

 

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Cope, Wendy. "The Orange". Set Me On Fire: A Poem for Every Feeling. edited by Ella Risbridger, Doubleday, 2019. 

 

You can read more about the poet here.  

 

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Thank you for reading and joining us for our monthly Gathering of Poetry. You are

more than welcome to add your link below if you would like to share one of your

favorite poems. The more the merrier!

  

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

Unraveled Wednesday: 9/17/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers with more rainbows. The scarf hasn’t changed much in appearance, except that there’s simply more of it now.

I’ve just started the second skein, and honestly, these cheerful stripes are so much more fun to knit than the lonely sock waiting in my knitting bag. The poor sock hasn’t seen a single stitch of progress. Maybe next week will be a calmer news week with fewer reasons to reach for endless rainbows.

 

 

I did finish two pretty good books this week. T. Kingfisher has a gift for twisting fairy tales into something both eerie and deeply human, and Hemlock & Silver is no exception. This reimagining of Snow White is less about poisoned apples and more about the slow, creeping corruption of power and secrets. Anja, our healer who drinks poison as part of her trade, is a wonderfully unconventional heroine - practical, stubborn, and brimming with curiosity about the natural world. Her mix of grit and compassion kept me rooting for her from the start.

As always with Kingfisher, the side characters shine just as brightly: the stoic guard, the insufferably entertaining cat, and of course, Snow herself, whose illness carries a haunting mystery. The mirror-world element gives the familiar Snow White tale a chilling twist. This adds a gothic, unsettling atmosphere that balances the earthy humor and warmth of Anja’s narration.

If I had a small quibble, it’s that the pacing drags a little in the middle, with some of Anja’s experiments feeling repetitive before the story pushes forward into the mirror realm. But the payoff is worth it - dark, tense, yet tinged with hope in the way Kingfisher does so well.

Clever, spooky, and surprisingly tender, Hemlock & Silver is perfect for readers who love fairy tale retellings with sharp edges. This was four stars for me. 

More Than Enough was another four star book. Anna Quindlen has always had a gift for writing about ordinary lives in a way that feels luminous. This is a novel that quietly gathers power as it explores the tangle of family, friendship, and identity.

Polly Goodman is such a deeply relatable character—an English teacher who balances the joys of her classroom, the frustrations of IVF struggles, and the comfort of her book club friends with an honesty that never feels forced. The book club itself is one of my favorite aspects of the novel: their banter and intimacy capture how sustaining long-term friendships can be. When a joking gift of an ancestry kit stirs up unsettling questions about Polly’s family history, Quindlen handles it not with melodrama but with nuance, reminding us that the past has a way of shaping our present in ways we don’t expect.

What makes the book especially moving is how it balances heaviness with light. Quindlen’s humor flickers through even in moments of grief or self-doubt, and her prose carries that clear, conversational tone she’s so well known for. The themes—what makes a family, how friendships evolve, how we redefine ourselves through change—are timeless, but here they feel both personal and fresh.

I enjoyed how many threads Quindlen successfully weaves together: Polly puzzling over how she might be related to her “niece,” navigating the medical ups and downs of IVF, watching her father’s heartbreaking decline into dementia, coping with the stresses of her teaching job, and wrestling with her lifelong conflicts with her mother. It’s a lot, but that is pretty much how life unfolds. Messy, layered, and never neatly contained. Quindlen captures it with warmth, wit, and an eye for important small moments.

The book shines in its portrayal of friendships, especially Polly’s book club, which feels wonderfully lived-in—like people you know, not just characters on a page. A few sections get weighed down by introspection, but overall the novel is deeply engaging, thoughtful, and beautifully written.

For readers who love stories about identity, family, and the sustaining power of friendship, this one is more than enough.

Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on February 24, 2026.  

What are you making and reading this week?

 

Read With Us: Discussion Time!

Today is the discussion day for our Read With Us summer book, The Friend by Sigrid Nunez. 

Kym, Carole, and I are each posting a discussion question or two on our blogs today, and you are welcome to respond in the comments. I would also encourage you to reply to others' comments if you choose.  This is a book discussion, after all, so there are no correct answers or right opinions. I've been looking forward to discussing this book. I'll make a confession; this was not my favorite book, but I don't know of a better bunch of people for a book discussion than all of you. 

 

Here are my questions: There is little in The Friend when it comes to drama; it's primarily a study of character and an exploration of ideas. Would more action have made a difference to you in terms of how you experienced the book? Nunez also includes a large number of quotations and stories from the works of writers. Are they well integrated into the novel? Did you enjoy them or find them distracting?

 

I'll be glad to share my thoughts about these questions tonight during our Zoom discussion. These questions on our blogs and the Zoom discussion are your chance to express your ideas. So what do you think? I can't wait to hear your thoughts! (And I'm counting on our discussion to give me fresh perspectives in my own thinking about this novel.)

The in-person Zoom discussion will be at 7:00 pm Eastern this evening. If you haven't RSVP'd to Kym already you can send me an email (the email address is in the upper right) and I will make sure you get an invitation with the Zoom link. I hope to see you there!