March 2026
As I write this, we're driving home from a state conference for children's librarians–part of the fun of being married to another children's librarian is sharing personal and professional interests with R. We work for different library systems in different roles, so we don't entirely overlap, but that's interesting to talk about too.
This has been an odd month in some ways, and I have to keep reminding myself that transitions are always uncanny, difficult things, even if they're also joyful. Winter is slowly changing to spring; the light is returning; the chickens are laying. It's hard to let go of the feeling that I should be happier than I am at the moment. Not that I'm particularly unhappy either, only a little restless and uneasy.
Possibly, it's also just that everything feels very busy and like I'm running behind. I put on an event for church yesterday, have the conference today and tomorrow, and we're going to Chicago for a PWHL Takeover Tour game this week. I'm also taking an 8-week pottery class, eating up 2.5 hours every week. That's not even taking into account Lent (extra services and prayers) or the garden (so many things to plant/transplant/plan) or the cats (so much energy) or the everyday demands of living. Maybe it's no wonder that time feels like it's getting away from me a bit.
At any rate, the garden is springing into life: the crocuses were done in by a cold snap, but daffodils and jonquils are blooming, radishes are sprouting, the apple and pear trees have buds forming, and the bluebells are about to show up. It's hard to believe that when we moved in, four years ago, the yard was almost entirely grass. Gardening is a lot of hard work, especially if you have limited funds and/or energy, but I do find it so rewarding.
One of my favorite places in the world is a small Orthodox monastery in northern Missouri, where the monks and nuns live amongst the woods, with animals, grape vines, and beautiful vegetable gardens. I think about the feeling of quiet and peace there often, and how special it feels to walk along the path to the outdoor chapel.
My relationship to my faith is often a little difficult; I'm pretty firmly progressive politically and I view the right wing tendencies of Orthodoxy skeptically. Add that to the current influx of converts who have been attracted by voices online and I sometimes think I'm still here mainly to prove a point about what is and isn't genuine Orthodoxy.
But then again, I'm rereading a classic Orthodox book on prayer, which says clearly that the battle we are fighting is in our own heart, not against the world, and that the goal of the spiritual life is not arrogant self-righteousness, but a "deep, sweet, and quiet joy." I'm so far from that on most days, except in seeing the fall of light on grass and the ripple of wind across water, in trying to hold the peace of the monastery in my memory while I also live in the world. Reading those words felt right, though, like a reminder through the ages that what I still love about my faith is real, and necessary, and alive, no matter what the louder voices say.
I didn't actually set out to write about my philosophy of religion, or whatever this has turned out to be, but it's where I ended up. I'm always fascinated by transitions, borders, the space between two thoughts and the tension that holds them together.
I think about braids as an image a lot: the tension required to make a braid, the strength of the strands when woven together, the way they stay separate but connected, the everyday skill required to make them. Braid three thoughts together and let them become something new.
And so, I love building fiction by assembling smaller pieces in a way that leaves some of the links unsaid–part of why I love poetry so much–and I love books that don't quite spell out what they mean, that ask the reader to bring a clear mind and an open heart to understand.
Links
I decided recently that I should start posting more regularly on my old book blog, rather than attempting to stuff this newsletter with absolutely everything, or send something every single week (none of you signed up for that!). So, going forward, I'll probably be posting there and linking to those posts here, although I still plan to talk about books here too!
My blog posts
Upcoming Books I'm Excited For
Beyond Dragons: Magical Middle Grade Creatures
Other Things to Read
Anyone can nominate a book for the Ursula K. Le Guin Prize!
Renay reviews Notes From a Regicide
A contest for library science fiction short stories
Jenny being brilliant about the current (grim!) state of cozy/romance/fantasy
March Children's Graphic Novels
Greenies by Emma Mills | 3/3
Looking Up by Stephan Pastis | 3/10
Big Nate: Code Red! by Lincoln Peirce | 3/10
Minecraft: The Manga, Vol. 05 by Kazuyoshi Seto | 3/10
Spider-Man: Cosmic Chaos! by Mike Maihack | 3/10
Big Mousetake by Alina Tysoe | 3/17
Marvel Rivals: Timestream Adventure by Paul Allor | 3/17
Plants vs. Zombies Zomnibus, Vol. 04 by Paul Tobin | 3/17
Time to Party! by Lauren Stohler | 3/17
Recipe
Garlic Chicken with Guasacaca Sauce
1/2c oil
3 garlic cloves
1.5lbs carrots
salt & pepper
3 lbs bone in skin on chicken parts
1 avocado
1 jalapeno
2T rice vinegar
zest & juice of 1 lime
1c parsley
1c cilantro
Heat oven to 425*. Combine 1/4c oil & grate in 2 garlic cloves. Add carrots & season. Transfer to sheet pan, reserving oil in bowl. Add chicken to bowl & coat with remaining oil. Arrange between the carrots. Roast until carrots are tender & chicken is cooked, 35-40 min. Meanwhile, combine avocado, jalapeno, vinegar, lime, 1/2c parsley & 1/2c cilantro, 11/2t salt & 1/4t pepper & puree to coarse mixture. Add in 1/4c oil & 1T water until sauce is smooth & creamy. Taste & adjust seasoning. Scatter remaining herbs over chicken & carrots. Serve with sauce. From: Easy Weeknight Dinners
Wishing you a little bit of quiet joy,
Maureen