Apples of Gold

The Stories We Keep

There is something about flour on the bench and the smell of cardamom and cinnamon in the air that loosens old stories. When I bake with my granddaughter in my kitchen, I notice that I begin again.The same stories. The same tone. Often the same hand gestures. I tell her about my grandmother’s kitchen —…

Water over Rock

This summer, when we visited Marysville, we found ourselves drawn once again to the mountain stream — the one that runs clear and cold through the town, even when the heat settles heavily over the valley. It feels like part of Marysville’s heartbeat, weaving alongside the main street and through the parklands where families gather…

The Speed of Change

There are seasons in life when almost nothing seems to change. Days follow one another so faithfully they begin to blur. Morning arrives, evening settles, and tomorrow looks much like today. Life moves along its tracks with a reassuring rhythm. Predictable. Familiar. Safe. In those seasons, change is so subtle it can almost go unnoticed….

Echoed Dreams

She talks about her dreams as if they are already beginning to take shape — a life imagined in bright strokes, full of meaning and promise. There is certainty in her voice, the kind that doesn’t yet know how easily the world can complicate things. I listen, and I am taken back. I remember dreaming…

My Treasure Chest

When I look back, it isn’t the big moments that rise first. It’s the small hands. The weight of a child asleep against my chest. The way time softens when you are watching someone you love grow. Life keeps bringing them to me — first as babies, then as children, then, almost without warning, as…

Allow

There was a time when I believed life moved in straight lines. If I made careful plans, if I worked hard enough, if I loved well enough, things would unfold as expected. I thought certainty was something you earned. But life, it turns out, has never been interested in our neat expectations. It bends. It…

Stay, I Pray You

Last night I saw a musical that quietly undid me. It exceeded every expectation I carried in with me. Anastasia was exquisite — moving, tender, and deeply human. One song in particular stayed with me long after the curtain fell. “How can I desert you?”At eleven years old, I didn’t have the words for this…

Between Breaths

New Year’s Eve is the night when time asks us to look back. Not with nostalgia, but with honesty. It is not a celebration so much as a reckoning — an inventory of moments that never asked to be remembered but stayed anyway. The conversations that altered us. The silences that taught us more than…

Quiet Reflection

When I was younger, the days between Christmas and New Year felt almost sacred. A quiet pause in the calendar where I would reflect on what had been and carefully map out what was to come. Lists were written, intentions set, dreams neatly arranged as though life itself might follow my handwriting. I still return…

Forever in My Heart

On your day of independence, my beautiful Finland,my heart turns to you with both pride and sorrow. What a tremendous price has been paid for your freedom.Your independence did not arrive wrapped in celebration—it was carved out of hardship, sacrifice, and the courageof those who had so little, yet gave everything. I think of my…