Little House, Lots Of Joys: My Desert Days

 This little guy is heading home today, after a week with his favorite dog sitter (me). He’s been such a happy, mischievous presence—very much his own personality, and very committed to it. Case in point: his approach to organization. Every six months or so, I deep clean my bookshelves. It’s a whole process—paper towels, a basket of supplies, bookends, labels. Everything comes off the shelves, and I start sorting. What haven’t I read? What still matters? It’s a bit like the Marie Kondo method of tidying , but I’ve adapted it over time. Not just “does this spark joy,” but also: does it serve a purpose? Is it outdated? Does it still fit the life I’m actually living now? I was deep in it—completely focused, asking all the right questions—when I reached for the paper towels. Gone. I grabbed another roll from the kitchen. Then the plastic tags disappeared. That’s when I stopped and looked around. A few things were missing- Books. Pens. A bookend. Plastic tags. And then I saw Hank...

 I’ve known since I was a kid that sleep and I don’t really get along. Growing up in a chaotic house meant I was always looking over my shoulder, and that kind of “high alert” wiring doesn’t just go away. I used to wake up waiting for a storm. Now, I wake up waiting for the light. I’ve traded the survival instinct of my childhood for the steady, quiet pulse of a circadian rhythm. It’s why four hours of sleep feels like enough for me now. I don’t nap, I don’t lounge—I’m just up. A friend introduced me to the idea of circadian rhythm—your body’s natural 24-hour cycle that helps regulate when you feel awake and when you feel tired. It’s guided mostly by light and touches everything: sleep, energy, hormones, mood. It sounds simple on paper. Living it is something else. I’ve come to think of it as a quiet internal pulse, something tied to the sun. When I’m in sync with it, I feel clear and steady. When I’m not, my mood drops and everything feels heavier than it should. I wake ...

  Some mornings arrive heavy When sleep comes in dribs and drabs Before the day even begins I wake up tired… Ready for bed…   This is one of those mornings where I fold myself into the couch, Mindlessly scrolling Sad and overwhelmed   The kitchen is a silent accusation Dishes tetrised in the sink, stacked like unfinished thoughts Trash not taken out Clutter from yesterday’s food prep Sitting where it started.   This is my crash day My burn day.

Blending tea has found its place in my evenings. Every few days, I prepare enough to last a couple of days ahead. Out here, where the dry air quietly pulls the moisture from your body, staying hydrated isn’t optional—it’s essential. Water, tea, fresh juice… it all counts. Last night I put together a gunpowder blend that I enjoy sipping while journaling and sitting still. I’ve been calling it Gunpowder Selah (סֶלָה). There’s a second version too, without caffeine—Selah Quiet. At some point, after everything comes together, it stops tasting like separate parts. It isn’t dull. It just softens into something more settled. Clicked Read More for the blend Just life, Sipped slowly. Gunpowder Selah (סֶלָה) 40 oz / 5 cups Ingredients 5 tsp gunpowder tea 3 tsp osmanthus fragrans 2 tsp globe amaranth 1 tsp dendrobium candidum Small pinch of burdock root Tiny pinch of stevia leaf (optional) Brewing Cold brew (slow) Combine with 40 oz cold water Refrigerate 6–8 hours Strain Flas...

This morning felt quiet in a way I didn’t want to rush past. I took care of the garden, said my prayers, and settled into a comfortable porch chair, watching the sun rise slowly through the mesquites. I found myself sitting instead of reaching for the next thing— my book, my plans for the day, my calendar. Nothing important happened. No big moments, no urgency. Just a few small things I might have missed if I had reached for the next thing. I’m starting to realize how much of life lives there— in the ordinary, in the in-between, in the things we don’t always name. This morning, I noticed a little more of it. Hummingbirds. Phainopepla. Morning doves gathering at the feeders. Lizards proving their maleness with small, determined pushups. Just life, noticed slowly.