Photo by mosi knife on Unsplash

Watch Mission: Impossible—The Final Reckoning in the theater with my husband. 

Take an in-person yoga class. 

Stay at the beach for the weekend with my husband—we’ve been trying to do this for a couple of years, but I’m confident we’ll actually get there this summer. When you actually stay at the beach, you can get out early before it’s as hot as the surface of the sun, or watch the sunset at night, then go back into air-conditioned comfort.

Make key lime pie ice cream.

Do at least one jigsaw puzzle.

Try some new recipes because I’m sick of what I make for dinner. Though I wouldn’t normally class this as “fun,” I’m trying to find ways to make feeding ourselves more enjoyable.

Celebrate my father-in-law’s 90^th birthday!

Check out our new neighborhood pool. Maybe with a cold drink and a book if they have umbrellas (I can’t remember if they do). (They do.)

I did get together with friends, ate summer fruit like crazy, and, of course, and read up a storm. Which brings me to…

What I read

I’m very happy with how I did with my summer reading list, finishing Kristin Lavransdatter and several other books (TBR shelf selections marked with *):

*Kristin Lavransdatter, Sigrid Unset. This is a chunky book I’ve wanted to read for a while, and I bought a copy so I wouldn’t have to worry about library due dates. I’m going to start it soon, and if I don’t like it, I’ll put it aside. If I do like it, it might take me all summer to read!

*Death and the Dutch Uncle, Patricia Moyes. A book series I enjoy that the library doesn’t have. I’ve collected most of my copies from Paperback Swap. 

Native Nations: A Millennium in North America, Kathleen DuVal. I have a growing interest in learning about the United States’ indigenous people, and this book won the 2025 Pulitzer Prize for history (tied with Edda L. Fields-Black’s COMBEE: Harriet Tubman, the Combahee River Raid, and Black Freedom During the Civil War). 

Run for the Hills, Kevin Wilson. It’s described as “a touching and generous romp of a novel,” which sounds perfect for summer reading. 

Ordinary Time: Lessons Learned While Staying Put, Annie B. Jones. I’m all for honoring the ordinary. 

Heartwood, Amity Gage. Suspense on the Appalachian Trail. This sounds so good! I’m number 69 on the hold list at the library, but hopefully it will come in before the summer ends.

*Daisy Miller and/or Washington Square, Henry James (both books are in the edition I have). According to Goodreads, “Each work weaves an intricate tale of marriage, money, and manners.” 

 Travels with My Aunt, Graham Greene. I’ve not read anything by Graham Greene, and this sounded interesting. 

*Small Victories, Anne Lamott. Lamott’s essays are always thought-provoking and often hilarious. I haven’t read this collection, and I found it in my library’s book store for $2. 

*Bruno, Chief of Police, Martin Walker. Because WHY NOT start a new mystery series?? This one is set in France, so oui, s’il vous plait.

Coming soon: fall fun

While we’re still waiting for our first cold front, I’m determined to find ways to mark the beginning of fall. In Florida, fall is the most fleeting of seasons, but I’ve got a fall fun list in the works to make the most of it. I’ll post it next week (hopefully), along with my first ever fall reading list!

What fun plans do you have for fall?

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been overwhelmed by the messages, cards, and even gifts people have sent me following Tank’s death. Not only did these show kindness, but also understanding of how big a role he played in my life, how deeply intertwined into my identity his presence was. So THANK YOU to everyone who has reached out. During a very sad time, these gestures have made me feel seen and cared for.

I went to the barn for the first time after on Wednesday, to catch up with my friend who owns it and to drop off supplements and feed I had stored at home. I have other horse items to give away but I’m not ready yet to part with them. It’s not like holding on to Tank’s blanket will bring him back, I know. But it also makes the loss even more final. Every time I let go of a Tank thing, it feels like tearing off a fragment of my heart. There’s only so much I can lose at one time.

The past few years have been a season of loss for me. My dad in 2018, then my mother-in-law and mom in 2023. I’ve had more practice handling grief than I want, and one of the things I’ve learned is that you have to allow it to rise to the surface, you have to feel it for it to pass. You can’t let fear of the pain keep you from letting it in. You can manage it, put boundaries on it, find ways to support yourself through it…but you have to feel it.

I hate that.

I hate that I have a handful of articles in a file folder labeled “grief” and an Instagram collection called “healing.” I’m sad that I need these things, and yet, why wouldn’t I? No one is immune to loss, pain, suffering, or struggle. While we may not “like” going through any of these experiences (I surely don’t), we can emerge finer, kinder versions of ourselves because of them. We appreciate the joys and pleasures of life more because we’ve experienced loss and pain. We know the ebbs and flows of experience. We appreciate happiness more after suffering through misery. And, hopefully, we hold greater patience and kindness for others, remembering that we don’t know what they’re privately struggling with. Several people I’ve talked with recently have shared their experiences with depression, grief, and other heavy emotions—so if you’re going through something hard right now, you’re most definitely not alone.

I don’t want you to think I’m some Pollyanna-ish figure here, happily looking for the silver lining. On Wednesday when I went to the barn, I did the ugly cry again, and spent most of the afternoon on the couch recovering. Sadness still pops up frequently, tears welling in my eyes unexpectedly when a thought takes me by surprise. I still can’t fully take in that he’s gone, and when I have no choice but to recognize that fact, I’m devastated all over again. And his loss reminds me of those other losses, and well, you get the picture. I’ll be walking with grief again for a while.

At the same time, I’m exploring the idea that feeling deep grief also strengthens my ability to feel deep happiness. Exercising my emotional muscles, if you will. And with the clarity that strong emotion sometimes brings, I’ll be reveling in the first hint of cooler weather, the taste of a freshly-baked scone, and how wonderful it feels to sink into a comfortable bed at the end of a tiring day. I’m looking forward to exploring hobbies I’ve neglected (art!) and continuing the process of fully unpacking and settling in to our new home (which I absolutely love). Remembering that nothing and no one lasts forever, I’ll more deeply embrace life’s simple pleasures and everyday adventures, and hopefully, share them with you.  

This is the blog post I’ve been dreading writing. On Monday, Tank sustained an injury he couldn’t come back from, and was peacefully and humanely euthanized at the equine vet hospital. I’m devastated, but also so, so grateful for the privilege of having him in my life for more than 21 years.

I’ve written often about our relationship, life lessons from the barn, and so many everyday adventures and simple pleasures resulting from having this lifelong dream come true. My time with him stretched me in almost every way, but one of the most important ways involved learning to be brave and do what needed to be done. I wasn’t perfect, but I did my best and I have no regrets about our time together. I loved and pampered him, and spent hours just hanging out with him. I studied horse care and horsemanship in order to give him a good life, not only because it was the right thing to do, but because I was so grateful for his presence. It gave me a lot of pleasure to care for him well, even when it became challenging as he aged.

Thinking deep thoughts

I wonder how many hundreds (thousands?) of pounds of carrots I’ve fed him over the last 21 years?!

Having my horse all these years has brought me joy, pain, sweat, and dirt, and involved sacrificing both time and money. I thank my husband for his gracious support of my horse dream. (Neither of us knew it would last for 21+ years and it’s probably better that we didn’t know how big a commitment we were making!) Despite my current grief, I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. Tank was absolutely the best boy, and everyone loved him, vets and farriers included, because he was always gentle and good (unless you tried to hot shoe him, and then he was definitely Not Good.). 

The last photo I took of Tank, after I gave him a shower to cool him off

I feel a little lost without him. I built my weekly schedule around visits to the barn, and suddenly I have time on my hands. It’ll take me a while to get my bearings. My friends and family have been kind and understanding and I’m grateful for that, too. I know eventually it won’t hurt so much, but for now, my heart aches when I remember I won’t be seeing his sweet face looking at me inquisitively, or be able to bury my nose in his neck for that therapeutic horse smell. 

Being Tank’s person changed me for the better and will always remain one of the greatest joys of my life. Even in grief, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the experience.

More Tank content:

Read about how I found Tank here. 

This post includes links to some of my favorite Catching Happiness writings about Tank.

Here is another one of my favorite posts.