On missing blogs & slowing down

I sat in the little cafe Saturday morning, drinking my latte and delighting in the GF Orange Blossom slice that was on the cake display that morning. The fire in the large hearth crackled loudly and continued to draw my gratefulness. I was the first customer of the day, greeted quietly by the proprietor still waking up the coffee machine, and had my pick of tables which is always a treat. It was a crisp day outside and the warmth of the cafe slowly drew a constant stream of people as the morning progressed. It helps that it is the only place open in this little village in Herefordshire. I sat there reading and writing and planning and thinking, often distracted by the entrants milling about me: the older couple who I now recognized as regulars too, sitting at the table side by side sharing a paper and drinking their teas; some walkers and a huge dog whose tail flicked my arm as they guided it to a table near me; a chatty toddler calling out every item he could identify as his adults decided what to order and which table to claim for their large group; another dog that took great offense at the first dog’s presence in the cafe and his owner having a mildly intriguing conversation at the table next to me with an older couple of some sort of relation that I struggled not to eavesdrop.

This place has become part of my Saturday morning routine. Saturdays took on a new rhythm last autumn when our twelve year old began dance classes at a dance studio. The 26 minute drive felt huge and was easily identified as too much of a marathon of driving if I left and returned. So I found myself every Saturday with 3 hours stuck in a tiny town with only a cafe occasionally open.

The first months I wandered the town, took a quiet few moments in the church, brought a friend for a chat, or walked the sign-guided footpaths throughout the town landmarks and surrounding fields when the weather was amicable. Just a bit before Christmas I realized what a gift was set before me. Instead of feeling annoyed by the co-opting of a Saturday morning that I would normally have spent doing things around the house or adventuring with the family, I realized some time had been carved for working and reading on an unexpected day. It has become a joy and something I look forward to at the end of every long week. (I should also mention the not-so insignificant blessing of about an hour in the car with my daughter where we have the loveliest of chats and listen to different albums together. After not driving for 9 years while living in NYC and quite dreading that part of this move, these small delights due to driving do not go unnoticed.)

There’s something really special about time set aside without set requirements. The needs of how I use that time change from week to week. Sometimes it is squeezing in some more work in a week that had too little space. Other Saturdays it has become a time to finish a book or plan for leading a church service the next morning. I’ve sat at almost every table so far in The Green Bean Cafe and read fiction and non-fiction; written plans, posts and prayers; and conversed with my husband and another time, a dear friend. I think a lot about sacred spaces and thin places thanks to many conversations with a favorite person and mentor—that’s a story for another day—but I’ve never really thought about spaces becoming sacred or thin by the way they are used. It sounds silly as I type that; but I guess I’ve just always assumed the specialness is just there in certain places and not others. I never thought about making them and my ability to make them by acknowledging and honoring the gift they have become. It may not last for me and The Green Bean Cafe, and I’m sure my hours will change as the weather shifts and schedules along with it. But there is definitely something important about stopping and sitting and taking in the space and time before you.

Back to this past Saturday morning, writing and distracted in the cafe. My goal that specific 3 hours was to confront my use of social media and my growing desire for something more. People moan about social media and statistics abound about its drain on time, data and productivity; but there’s been something more behind my feelings this time. It’s simple really, and once I identified it, action steps followed quite quickly. I miss blogs. While a quick google search says that blogging mostly began in 1994, I miss the heyday of blogs which for me peaked around 2012. I was a new mom and spent hours nursing and rocking a baby. Reading was my desire, but I found books a little too unwieldy with a newborn. Instead I had a device and a list of a dozen blogs that I loved to check each day. I grew into my role as mother and freelancer and homemaker with these other mommy bloggers and DIYers and book reviewers. They were like letters to me, inviting me into what they were learning and doing and thinking. It was delightful. It was slower. And it was very thoughtful.

I’ve been writing on this very blog since about 2004. (The archives are a bit hard to scroll all the way back to thankfully.) And the early posts are often shallow and quick as I found my footing in writing on the internet mostly to specific friends I knew would check as a way to keep up with me. It’s taken a lot of forms over these many years, some long form like this one; others just posting illustrations I completed or songs I liked or links I wanted to share to whomever found me in the void. I loved Instagram when it came on the scene (for me also sometime in 2012). That kind of boundaried and edited photography has always been a huge delight for my creativity. But as the algorithms have continued to change and frustrate everyone, and as reels and stories have taken over more; the creativity and joy of that app has just depleted for me. Over the last year, I have subscribed to a handful of blog post newsletters. And I recently realized how much I love reading them. It is slower. It is more thoughtful. And it encourages my attention to stay, to think, to engage for longer than a scroll. So here I am.

That was a super long-winded way to say I’m moving my engagement back here fully. I don’t know if I have anything to say or follow that will warrant anyone reading an email from me or checking my blog for posts; and maybe no one else misses blogs like I do. But I prefer the effort and time here than attempting to post and getting distracted by content on IG and FB. Things get processed as I write them out — like realizing that I’ve created a thin place of sorts in a little cafe in Herefordshire. And I want to meld my art, photography and writing back together a bit more than when I had to split my Instagram accounts for privacy while living in NYC. I have a plan for posting. I have links and music and books and projects that I cannot wait to share more slowly in this way. I don’t know if anyone but my mother and somewhat obligated husband will read this hefty of a post, but if you do and you decide to follow along and read what comes out this next year… thanks. I hope you like to slow down and drink coffee and chat with me too. Because I love it and this is the closest we’ll get to it until you can come and have a coffee and cake with me at The Green Bean Cafe in Herefordshire too. I hope to post at least once a week, likely written while sipping coffee at my cafe on Saturday morning. You can find me here whenever you feel like checking. Or if you want to fully commit, pop your email into the box at the bottom of the page and you’ll get an email of my posts when they appear.

This week, I’ll be back on Friday with my book reviews from the month and some links to articles, songs, and art that I’ve been collecting to share. 💚