Fall 2025
I was sitting in the waiting room at a doctor’s office on the coast last week when I overheard a man and a woman talking about the summer. They were talking about the dry summer, and the woman said, “Great for sailing, terrible for the farmers.”
I don’t know about the great for sailing part, but I do know about the terrible for farmers part. I have seen no national coverage of the drought, but I have been learning in the last month or so that the drought impacted far more than Maine. I have a friend in Vermont who said that farmers and homesteaders are having wells run dry all around him. Here in Maine, there is a website and map that shows reported dry wells. New England is supposed to be a safe haven for climate change. Maybe we still are. A friend in Ohio posted a satellite picture of the drought impact there. From space, you can see the brown, parched land.
I won’t write about everything else going on in the world because I am sure you know. I have spent years trying to get my head around the why but spent this summer getting around to the acceptance and thinking about how our family moves forward. In spite of the drought, we put by more food that we ever have. We have some for us and a little to share, and I think that’s what we have to do to keep going. We have to learn how to take care of ourselves better.
Last year, when I set the themes for this year’s issues, I had no idea how important “putting by” was going to be, but if you are reading this, if you haven’t already, start learning how to preserve food. It’s already becoming an essential skill–just look at the prices in the grocery stores.
I think that’s where our hope is. My husband took this picture last week after we finally got some rain. You could feel the plants’ relief. You could see it. The morning after our first good rain in so many months, morning chores were extra special, and you can see the magic in this photo–the hope that comes with the rain.
I am so proud of this issue. We have some beautiful works for you, and I am so honored to have special pieces by some of my favorite authors. We also have a first-time published author, and her work is so good that I can’t believe this is her first publication. And we have full audio for this issue. Most authors read their works themselves, and it is simply a treat to hear their beautiful voices. I hope you love them as much as I do.
I hope you love this issue and feel inspired to save some food, save some seeds, and take steps to become more self sustaining, no matter where you are in that journey.
In This Issue
Pandora’s Jar by Katharyn Privett
Some jars are harder to open than others, I’ve found. These carry the afternoons before heartaches and losses, unknown to the fruit within them, and the sting of a blissfully unaware morning can slip beneath the pop of a lid without permission.
King of the Forest by Lisa Epple
Shakespeare’s Henry IV said, “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,” but this photogenic fellow seemed quite relaxed and wore his large crown of beautifully symmetrical antlers proudly.
Putting Food By by Lauren Kessler
I am now deeply in love with the modern take on the oldest method of food preservation, when ancient civilizations used the sun, wind, and air to remove the moisture from food, to allow what they grew or gathered or hunted or fished to last them through the winter.
I Inherit Recipes (poetry) by Jane McCarthy
mom said / don’t touch the jars in the cellar. / that’s grandma’s apocalypse stash.
I’m a Punk Rocker, Yes I Am by Crystal Sands
“Today,” I told him. “I picked pears from our tree and then turned them into 11 jars of food that we will eat and share with friends and family this winter.” I added, “That’s pretty punk rock.”
Cold Wet May, Plenty Hay by Susan Krawitz
Bringing in hay is challenging work, but it has an undeniable magic. Pass a day in a grassy field and you’ll see the legions of crickets that scatter from the tractor wheels, killdeer feigning injury to protect a nest, tiny fawns tucked into the grass.
Failed Plum Jam (poetry) by Katherine January
next morning I tap the lids— / each one thunks the just right tune / of late summer pleasure / and then, I open one / to have a smear with toast and tea
Grocery Bag Garden (poetry) by Wynne Huddleston
Eternity / is defined by how long it takes / to reach the end of a row, but sure enough / you would get there, back aching, brow dripping, / pants soaked in morning dew.
Autumn Thoughts (poetry) by Jj Starwalker
Blue skies, white puffy clouds / and evergreens standing proud / do their thing, while / leaf-dropping trees, ahead of season
Maker Profile: Abrianna Kremer of Wool Delight by Crystal Sands
I had the chance to sit down and interview her last week for this Fall’s issue, and I am excited to share her work with our readers. One of my favorite things about Abrianna’s work is that she uses used and up-cycled materials to create beautiful and useful objects.
cover photo credit: James Sands