I believe attention is a form of devotion.
Joy Lessons is a record of what I’m learning on the ridge. My field trips keep teaching me the ordinary world still holds wonder, that small practices keep us grounded, and that beauty can be found on hard days if we’re willing to look.

Joy is not a mood. It’s a practice.
Here, I pay attention to the small, faithful things—weather, birds, gardens, kitchens. I share what helps me stay steady when the world isn’t.

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I find peace when I sift flour and the particles waft in the air. I find comfort during a summer downpour, or when the sun drops like a tangelo behind the hills.

Here is the universal truth: what you pay attention to is what you get to keep.

In the magic hours, I see every detail. Feel every heartbeat. Hear the background music of my ordinary life.

Outside, katydids trill from the treetops. And inside that sound, I sometimes hear the old voices. Mama, my grandmother, my great-aunts, all of them going on about coconut layer cake and potluck dinners, as if the kitchen light is still on.

It’s the music of the earth, laced with the small work of living.

And I stand there long enough to hear it.