I cannot belive how long it has been since I have posted in this space. Fig and peach jam from 2024? Is it possible that 2025 went by without a single recipe or food picture?

Not actually. I have, of course, cooked/baked many delicious things and taken more than a few pictures. But I have been focusing on other things, trying to find some joy offline and sometimes succeeding.

Mostly, 2025 has been a bumpy ride on the struggle bus in nearly every aspect of life. But it has been an invaluable time for me, introspective and filled with loss and the complications that arise from that. In much the same way as the last Year of the Snake, 2013, where five people I know died, 2025 featured losses, two important creatures (Gooby and Hank) and one human (my 107-year-old grandmother). It has been, and remains in these last few weeks before we move into the Year of the Horse, a deep and profound shedding of people, places, mindsets, and things.

So it seems fully appropriate to post my list of 100 Things to Love About 2025 where I didn’t quite get to 100. It was definitely a chore to get to 67, but I am grateful that I was still able to find things to love about what was otherwise a challenging year.

100 Things To Love About 2025

1. Two foxes playing in the snow at Still Pond Acres. The quiet, insistent snorts of horses in the barn, waiting for food. A single fox at Druid Hill Park, plus many deer calmly looking for grass.

2. Katz’s gluten-free cinnamon pop-tarts. These are far too small and far too expensive, but they are a nice treat.

3. The Heart in Winter by Kevin Barry. James by Percival Everett.

4. Coffee in the morning, every morning, pre-dawn.

5. The terrible tenant moving out and the peace that descends upon an empty house.

6. Friends (and their families) who welcome you in at your worst-feeling, ugly-crying. Who feed you tea and get angry on your behalf.

7. The Horse World Expo in Harrisburg, PA.

8. Boomer’s little noise every time he comes back into the kitchen from outside in the morning; his little “mmmrwp” sound he makes when I greet him with, “hello, friend.”

9. A warm day with no wind after weeks of bitter cold and working in the horse barn.

10. Sleeping in after days and days of having to get up before dawn to be a place.

11. Making it through another awful death anniversary, year 12, and the immediate release of pressure when February comes to a close.

12. A perfectly peaceful birthday: a ride on my sweet horse (who actually enjoyed it), a hike on the Sweet Air loop in Gunpowder Falls, a BALT sandwich from Golden West (and a mimosa while waiting), and a new episode of Top Chef, set in Canada.

13. Potentially good news about the homesteading book received on my birthday.

14. Making vanilla walnut scones with vanilla powder from Brittany. 

15. A surprise gift certificate from Verde for authentic Italian Neapolitan pizza that is also available gluten-free.

16. Sitting outside on my balcony as spring birds begin their dawn chorus.

17. Launching a new scholarship for Graham Equestrian, a scholarship that would not exist were it not for my idea and my grants and my pushing to get it funded.

18. Chris Corsini, tarot card reader and astrologer of the internet and his spot-on lunar forecasts and monthly sign-based horoscopes.

19. Feeling peaceful, truly content, for the first time in a very long time, even though financial stability is still an issue. That feeling of having enough – money, time, and resources – and being okay with “enough” as it is right now. Being able to talk myself into the present moment.

20. Getting rid of everything that is not serving me: people, belongings, mindsets.

21. Hot chocolate chip cookies, the best recipe, fresh from the oven, with three dozen more portioned in the freezer and ready to bake whenever I want.

22. Naps in the sun on my balcony.

23. Letting some shit go. Not all of the shit, but some of it.

24. Perfect seats at the Orioles game (section 17, row six, seats 19, 18, 17). Crab fries. Singing during the 7th inning stretch.

25. Calling on a friend, who responds. Bolsters me up. Sets me straight.

26. Seeing my grandmother in what may be her final months. Massaging her hands, easing out the arthritic tension. Watching her feel good.

27. Dog hiking in the rain. Dog hiking when the trees are just starting their neon green flowering. Hank the dog, who is irrepressible and seriously energetic; taking pictures of him gazing adoringly at me as I head to our hiking spot.

28. Listening to Black writers read their work at the new community collective in Waverly.

29. Forcing myself out on a Friday night and finding a parking spot downtown immediately (not as lucky on the way home, but still close enough and a beautiful night for the short stroll home).

30. Asking a friend to remind me of why I should not text A Person and getting an excellent answer, along with a dinner invitation.

31. Prigel Family Creamery’s peanut butter ice cream in a hot fudge sundae.

32. Seeing my kid on her 25th birthday.

33. Seeing my kid on her 25th birthday.

34. Seeing my kid on her 25th birthday.

35. A horse witch who talks to Hank and also to Boomer and tells me to go on a grand adventure, or rather, Hank tells me to go on a grand adventure, and Boomer says it’s okay as long as he can go with me.

36. Asking the universe for a sign or a little help and feeling answered. Supporting myself in different ways. Cracking my heart open again and letting the light in.

37. Patapsco Valley State Park on a rainy Sunday, hunting for mullein.

38. Cheeseburgers. Real, meaty, grilled cheeseburgers, with fries and ketchup, eaten outside of Rocket to Venus with a friend.

39. Making the decision to sell Western Maryland, or at least put it on the market. 

40. Writing again. Really and truly writing again. Writing in secret online but also writing out loud with #1000words of summer. Having something to say again and feeling compelled to say it. Submitting work again. Revising and organizing poems that I thought were long dead but have come together in a theme that makes sense. Feeling hopeful about art and writing.

41. Working on a short story, real fiction. Receiving inspiration and acting on it. Listening to the words and leaning into the characters. Realizing that my writing can evolve.

42. Rediscovering farmer’s market peaches and fresh corn. Branching out into green beans.

43. Eating my first croissant in a decade, chocolate, with shaved almonds on top. Paired with an iced coffee = heaven on earth.

44. Suffering no ill effects from the croissant and researching if gluten sensitivity can go away. Learning that it can. 

45. Testing #44 with real pizza from Doppio Pasticceria. The sourdough crust was incredible, but the rest of the pizza was just okay. Lacked salt from top to bottom.

46. Fall arriving in Baltimore City. Two solid weeks of 70 degrees during the day and 60 at night. Low humidity.

47. The soaking rain that gives way to a cool morning.

48. Staying in Western Maryland and realizing that it’s not the time to sell the property but to improve it and sell my house. Insulating the cabin ahead of drywall (or some other kind of flooring).

49. Morning fires in Western Maryland, with coffee and birdsong and deer and 50-degree weather. Sitting wrapped in a blanket and writing morning pages for hours.

50. Letting go of friends who make me feel like an obligation. Sitting in loneliness. Being ok with being lonely; realizing (again) that being lonely alone is better than being lonely with a person.

51. Poetry and performance on a hot summer night at Current Space.A cold spritzer. Being at peace with an old friend.

52. Peaches. Peaches, peaches, peaches.

53. Visiting my grandmother in the last weeks of her life. Holding her hand and telling her how grateful I am that she was my grandmother. Watching her eyes light up and her smile. Edited to add: she is still alive, two months later. Visiting her with Sicily and holding her hand again. Edited again to add: she departed this life on December 26th.

54. Making Thanksgiving plans with my brother’s family. Trying to forgive.

55. Taking the Charm City Circulator to Locust Point. Watching the city roll by and not being responsible for navigating it.

56. Walking dogs and caring for cats on Thursdays. Getting to know more of the city on foot, finding secret gardens and pathways.

57. Another visit from Sicily, the kind where it’s just us and we get to do the things we like to do: road trips. House hunting. Snacks on the couch.

58. Walking three dogs in the woods in the fall, when there is no one around, and all of the dogs are just happy to be alive.

59. Apples. All apples in the fall, with caramel and cinnamon.

60. Finishing my first short story and sending it out into the world.

61. Getting a poem accepted into The Orchards Poetry Journal.

62. My red horse, living his best life, and the little noise he makes when I visit. It’s really a noise for the carrots I bring, but for a small moment, I can convince myself that he is glad to see me.

63. Once There Were Wolves by Charlotte McConaghy, a gorgeous book that made me cry.

65. My child visiting me once a month for the last three months of the year; making latkes with her in the kitchen; going to the movies with her (Marty Supreme, meh); eating Chinese food from New Asian Taste on Christmas Day.

66. Spending time in the rain with my horse after he crossed the Bridge; rubbing his still-warm shoulder and wailing when there was no one to hear or see; deeply appreciating his kindness and special crotchety brand of friendship and wisdom.

67. Sleeping early on New Year’s Eve and snuggling down into the warm covers, sleeping through fireworks and waking up feeling like the previous year was complete in a satisfying way.