Bridget Purdome

I’m still working on letting go. I’m sure that I’ll have it mastered soon and can write about something else. Ha! A few days ago, I was feeling crabby about the snow and 20 degree temperature. As my family likes to say, “I was a grumpy-umpus.” My bike on the deck was a grumpy-umpus, too! […]

I’m surrounded by signs of both spring and St. Paddy’s weekend here in Chicago. Irish tunes play in the coffeehouse, people walk by the windows adorned in green, the neighborhood frozen custard stand re-opens. There is so much to celebrate today! I wish I had a magic wand to make this joy last forever.  If

She wasn’t my biological aunt or my adult children’s biological great-aunt, but she certainly deserved these titles. In the notes for her own obituary, my late Aunt Justine referred to Judy as “the best friend a girl could ever have.” For many years, Justine and Judy shared a duplex, split meals in restaurants, and sent

If kneeling is a form of prayer, do I get extra credit for taking this sacred posture in the Atlantic on a 20 degree Fahrenheit morning?  Ha!   My 30 year-old and their partner thought it would be fun to celebrate the new year by plunging into the ocean in rural Nova Scotia. I, too, was

While celebrating the holidays in both the United States and Canada, I encountered several examples of “othering.” For those not familiar with this word, Merriam-Webster states that “othering” means “to treat or consider (a person or a group of people) as alien to oneself or one’s group (as because of different racial, sexual, or cultural

I haven’t had much luck as a “wanna be birder.” To prepare for my first outing, I had dug an old pair of binoculars out of our cabinet. As the other birders stared with fascination at the apparently rare species, all I could see were blobs of color. For my second trip, I upped my

Mark and I have dreamed of seeing the Northern Lights for a long, long time. We’ve tried to spot them on numerous trips to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, the North Shore of Minnesota, and in various parts of Alaska and Canada with no success. Two years ago, on a warm summer night, we chased

There was a rhythm to her raking.Whoosh.Whoosh.Whoosh.Then, a bigger WHOOSHas damp leaves were tossed onto plastic tarp. Whoosh.Whoosh.Whoosh.WHOOSH. Againand againand again. As Raker surrendered to the meditative motion,a question formed:“Wise Trees, what are you teaching me this season?” In autumns past, the message was always clear:“Let go.”“Let go.”“Let go some more.” This time, Bright Sun sparkledand Joyful Wind played

Last time I biked to this Evanston coffee house, I wasn’t carrying any cash. This time, I was prepared with a couple dollars. I immediately recognized him, although I didn’t remember his name. He was wearing a faded pair of jeans and a cool t-shirt with a map of the purple line. I suspect that

As I obsessively tune into the relentless news cycle, I’m overwhelmed by all the chaos around me. Chaos within me, too. I have no idea how to respond. And yet, when I begin to feel this sense of powerlessness, I realize that I do know what to do. It may be apple picking season, but