I set out to renovate a small 1930s house and got as far as the hallway, because I kept picking things up and turning them over. Little Home Details is the record of that: hardware, ceramics, baskets, found objects, held for longer than they probably deserve.
My kitchen shears have been sharpened so often over the years that the blades have visibly narrowed, and I only noticed when I set them next to a newer pair.
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The apartment we moved into two years ago came with a set of ghosts on the walls, faint rectangles and squares in…
I counted them once, out of curiosity, standing in front of the open cabinet with a cup in each hand: fourteen cups,…
A train ticket falls out of an old novel and starts a slow account of everything that ends up wedged inside books…
My corn broom has worn down at an angle from years of sweeping the same kitchen floor, and I have learned to…
I did not think weight mattered much in a cup until I owned two very different ones side by side for long…
The mirror hangs in the hall between the kitchen and the back bedroom, a spot too narrow for anything but a coat…
The crack ran nearly the full length of the slab, a hairline that widened at one end into something you could almost…
A shoe box of postcards collected over fifteen years, most from people whose faces have gone fuzzy, kept for the handwriting more…
For years I lit candles without ever touching the wick first, and I did not think there was anything to think about…