Archive - The Ariadne Archive

The stone is the pledge of summers to come

When I lived in Anchorage I thought often about the word anchorage, of being anchored.

Jan 12 •

December 2024

As I write, it is midwinter—that pause in the season when the sun rests in its path across our skies.

Dec 23, 2024 •

October 2024

Of wings and weighs

As I sit, leaves are falling in shades of shining yellow—months of sunlight, held fast through winds, now falling to the ground.

Oct 18, 2024 •

September 2024

Moments cut out of time

Hello friends—sharing an essay I wrote nearly a year ago, about a bird the color of the shifting yellow birch leaves, and how the most powerful moments…

Sep 6, 2024 •

August 2024

July 2024

Voices torn from the roots

on Sinead O'Connor, and the seeds of women who live by their words

Jul 28, 2024 •

Hello— I have been away and working on a class for the past week (I’m rusty at teaching, to say the least), yet I have been saving some favorite reads…

Jul 26, 2024 •

A reality of their own

Hello friends— A few weeks ago I received a message from a writer who I admire so much I had to do a doublecheck. But it was true—Katherine May had…

Jul 14, 2024 •

Waxwing lanterns

Hello friends—I’m sharing a favorite post from the archive this week, as I work on a few more things this week and next.

Jul 4, 2024 •

June 2024

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