Beware the Ides of March

And yes, Brutus, you suck

A long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I started publishing my newsletter on the Ides of every month. Why? Well, why not? At the time I made the decision, it was the Ides of March and I was in the midst of my annual moaning about Brutus (yes, he sucks). It’s more interesting than choosing the first of the month or the last or whatever. Because the Ides fall on the 15th in March, and because the assassination of Julius Caesar made the date famous, a lot of people assume the Ides are always on the 15th. Not so. Sometimes they fall on the 13th. The St. Neots Museum has a great piece explaining the Roman calendar here.

Andrew and I have just returned home from a phenomenal trip to New Zealand with dear, dear friends. Stunning scenery wherever you look and I learned that I sleep like the dead when I’m being rocked on a boat. If I could only figure out a way to make our bed at home replicate the motion.

Travel makes it easy to get in the habit of noticing things you’d otherwise overlook. You’re surrounded by a world different from what you’re used to, so it doesn’t take much of a concerted effort. We’ve all encountered grumpy, bad travelers, but for the most part, people open their minds when they go to a new place and let the culture sink in. I loved learning about the Māori and appreciate how their understanding of the world has been incorporated into the Kiwi consciousness. Indigenous people have a lot of wisdom from which we can all benefit.

When you get home from any trip, there’s a lot to process. A lot to unpack, literally and figuratively. It’s also the perfect time to try to apply that heightened awareness to your usual stomping grounds. Our mountains look entirely different from New Zealand’s, but they’re breathtaking, too. March in our part of Wyoming is when we get most of our snow. You know how happy that makes me, so you can imagine how delighted I was to wake up to a glorious spring storm on our first morning back. I’m confident if I ever found myself climbing Everest (which I never, ever will), I’d think, “Gorgeous, but there could be more snow.” Snow is beautiful on so many levels, from the way it blankets a landscape to how it brightens a perfect bluebird sky. Years ago, while living in Vermont, my house was a short walk from the home of Snowflake Bentley. Ever heard of him? He figured out a way to attach a microscope to his camera in order to take pictures of individual snowflakes. Talk about making an effort to notice things we overlook. You can see examples of his work here or watch a short (under ten minutes) documentary about him here. No microscope in our house, but I took the time during this storm to look at as many snowflakes as possible before the wind kicked up. It was way more relaxing than I ever could’ve imagined. So much joy from something so small.

Before we close out for the month, I want to share another overlooked book, Elinore Pruitt Stewart’s Letters From a Woman Homesteader. After leaving her position as a housekeeper in Denver to homestead in Wyoming, she kept in touch with her former employer. Her letters chronicle the hard work and joy of her early years in Sweetwater County. Elinore’s engaging voice and keen observations about both the land and the characters who inhabit it make for a compelling read. She’s remarkably cheerful despite facing countless challenges.

That’s it for me. How about you? Any overlooked books you want to share? Small pleasures that made this last month better? Let us know in the comments.

xo

-tasha

P.S. How do you like the cover for the next Emily book, #19, The Sisterhood?