06/05/2026
Dear Diary,
The children continue to grow ravenous and tall like the weeds in the garden—both equally unruly and in need of tending.
To further my efforts, I have once again sequestered myself to the barn, where I may work in relative peace for brief periods of time before someone inevitably requires a snack, a bandage, or assistance locating an item that is directly in front of them. (The ketchup is literally right there in the fridge, second shelf on the right)
The chickens are thoroughly enjoying their newfound freedom now that the garden has matured enough to withstand their scrutiny. I believe they are as delighted to be released from confinement as the children are to be free from the schoolhouse for the summer.
My youngest offspring, Elora, however, suffers from a persistent case of melancholy. There appears to be no known remedy.
But I digress.
Today I found myself at the potter's wheel with no particular plan in mind. I have discovered that clay often knows what it wishes to become long before I do. Rather than force my will upon it, I simply listen and allow it to guide the process. There is a certain freedom in creating without expectation.
From this partnership emerged a teapot adorned with honeybees. I find it quite charming and hope it survives its journey through the kiln. I shall include a sketch here for future reference, should history remember my humble work.
Until tomorrow,
Steve
(AKA Steph)
P.S. - I hope you all are enjoying this impromptu series as much as I am. You all are so funny in the comments and I really enjoy reading all of them. I definitely played Oregon Trail A LOT when I was younger. It's easy for me to imagine being back in that time period, so writing a daily "diary" has become super fun for me and I am so glad you all are getting a kick out of it too.