Katie’s Ground Podcast

I woke up at 3 a.m thinking about the thirty-six border collies, covered in feces removed from the half-million-dollar Florida mansion that has been condemned. My manure pile is cleaner than that house. Pictures of better days—the owner dressed up, hair coiffed, ribbons proudly held next to dogs now smeared in filth flipped through my mind. I said prayers for the dogs, for the woman. She had the b...

I’ve been told beginner’s mind, not knowing mind, responding to the world with openness, like a child, is a way to follow Christ. But sometimes I wonder if we can be too quiet, suppressing legitimate angers or sadnesses. When I walk, I try to tell God what’s going on or pray for a few friends. Out loud because if I don’t talk, I’ll forget how. I fear I’m forgetting how. But often I fall to silence...

Mwanner/Wikimedia Commons[/caption] Fifty years ago, I was hired to do archeology at two New York State historic sites: Claremont, the home of Robert R Livingston who was one of the five who wrote the Declaration of Independence. I worked at Crown Point, an English fort located off Lake Champlain the same year we celebrated our nation’s two hundredth anniversary. I wrote the following about diggin...

I walked out. Even though morning was mostly cloaked in gray clouds, the sun made the fields and distant woods glow. Slowly I watched a rainbow form, barely a whisper, one of those patches of light you’re not sure you’re really seeing. But then it brightened. Not the full bow, but a muscular bar standing. Across the field another whisper of light appeared. There was no obvious sun to make it. Just...

Sunday, Sept 6, 2026 Walked out this morning with fog beginning to rise, the sun a milk white eye, stunning blue pushing the clouds to the side. Walked out with glistening, delicate spider webs spun in the weeds, weeds that have been particularly beautiful this summer, especially since the redwing blackbirds and killdeer are gone. Could it be the owl living in the neighbor’s barn, and the red tail...

Sunday Last night we woke up at 3:00 am as lightning flashed. Bruce got up, put his pants on. (I heard the rattle of his belt.) I heard the front door close. My eyes stayed closed. I sucked on a Melatonin and tried to go back to sleep. Finally, I got up, the dog following me. “The horse had the door open like she does.” That means the door was bent outward, stuck on a stump. We thought we’d pushed...

It’s been like a bath here, humidity high, a gentle storm last night. Mrs. Horse took a big drink when I came out and wrapped her legs in fancy boots to keep the flies off. She was glad for her hay cubes and hay. The redwing blackbirds, robins, meadow birds are gone. Though after I said that I saw a King bird settle in the grasses. Seems early for them to fly south. We do have a couple hawks aroun...

The red wing blackbirds have left. This time last summer they hung out on the wires, old friends that I greeted. They watched me, then flew from wire to wire. I hoped one would land on my shoulder prove I was a saint. No such luck. This year my rowdy dog would chase them. The kildeer don’t even trot ahead of me. I miss these birds. Even the robins are gone. But the barn swallows have stayed for no...

Remember how I told you about those mini communities that we can find in waiting rooms and grocery stores? Well, something magical happened by the grapes at Woodmans but first I need to back up a bit. A few weeks ago, I participated in a Tracking Wonder class about cultivating community through my writing. Tracking Wonder is a business that helps creative people find themselves as entrepreneurs by...

This year when I went for my mammogram, I barely took a seat before I was ushered into the exam room. I changed, got squished and was on my way. For years I went to Swedish American, now UW. I wrapped the gown around my middle, held it close and sat down with other women. Some of us read a book. Others watched the TV. Sometimes we spoke. Those days we waited for our results with some dread. We sha...

We call it sheep running when the wind moves in the tall grass. It’s a glorious sight, that wind in the grass, not something you’d think glorious like a mountain range, but that grass up and headed out, lush from a spot of rain and warm days, it’s glorious, and if we cut and bale it with enough chance to dry, it will feed Mrs Horse and the neighbors’ cows. It’s the nesting ground of meadow birds—r...

I’ve been caught up in the chatter about Unidentified Aerial Phenomena since Trump began releasing previously top-secret files. Pastors who have seen files have said that these would destroy Christians’ faith1. Others are concerned about how we would be deceived as revelations ramp up. Rod Dreher has said these phenomena are demonic. Now we are faced with a universe that is more mysterious and odd...

The days this week have been exquisite, especially as the sun set, with enough clouds to focus the light, to make the barn, the trees, the grass radiant. One day with predicted rain, possibly severe, the air felt like pressure like there was thunder rolling in the background or a jet readying for take off. The big machines were working the fields. Every few years they get bigger, the finishers the...

The farmers are on the move. Finally. It’s been a cold week, as chilling as any week in the middle of the winter, with a few mornings of frost, and cold winds roaring through. I watched a maple tree’s leaves wilted, trembling on a rare still day, as if those leaves were trying to warm themselves or trying to say something. The lilacs have lasted longer than normal. I walk past their scent, heavy,...

Early, when I’m doing chores I notice but don’t notice: the wood walls of the barn. The manger where I set dusty grooming tools. The shavings pushed back in Mrs Horse’s stall. Water buckets I sloshed and tossed out even before Mrs. Horse walked around looking for me and her portion of hay. I turn on the My Daily Office Podcast because I can sometimes hear the word of the Lord better than I can rea...

Sometimes it seems like our whole culture is aligned against the deep commitments of a marriage that lasts over many years. There are rough patches that can last months, that are just that-rough patches and not the truth of the marriage. There are reasons why you chose that person, that are perhaps deeper than you first thought. With Bruce, my body sang to him, the first night we stood under a tre...

The Week of April 12, 2026 The willows are alive with red wing black birds. A squirrel runs across the road. Aiden alerts and pulls hard on the leash. I don’t see many squirrels at this part of the road. The squirrel colony is by our house—living in our trees with clumps of leaves as nests. Our multiple black walnut trees keep them well fed. Outside our bathroom window, I watch them run branches t...

The Ring We need to get you something for Christmas,” Bruce said. Christmas gifts can be difficult here. “I’d like to get you an Oura ring.” He’d seen the slick television ads promoting them for better health, and a close friend has spoken highly about hers. But I hesitated because it sets a machine between me and my body. Do I want to invite a machine that far into my personal, physical space? Th...

I walk up to the Peterson farm just to hear the wind in the trees in their dooryard, the pines especially. There’s an old apple tree that has a big fat trunk, and is so misshapen it seems like it has grown out of a fairy tale. A flock of redwing blackbirds settled by the willows. I don’t know how the leftover golden rods, sticks really can hold their weight, but it does. My mind was quiet walking...

Was it Angels or Merely Sun rays? Does it matter? The sky slanted-- gray shafts cloud to cloud streaming silver bars looked like angels, not the kind with wings blooming out of their shoulders or the others with four faces eyes, oh so many eyes or a man who walked up and wrestled hard, throwing out a hip. But still looking into the sky it was like I was seeing angels, a whole company of light, not...

I’m as gobsmacked by these recent years of quiet and contentment as I was by decades of steady difficulty. Bruce and I are both healthy. We get along. We are quiet with each other. We have found a synchrony that Ruth and Peco Gaskovski say happens with old married couples. In their essay with Inkwell, Marriage Coded : they say: “When you put two pendulum clocks on the same surface, they eventually...

Sunday, March 8, 2026 The wind is brisk this morning. The sky so clear and clean I could see the faded gibbous moon off to the east. When the moon is like this at night, I get spooked. It’s lopsided, faded, fat. It doesn’t feel clean and joyous like the little crescent following the sun down to the horizon. Or the shouting full moon throwing shadows, glorious shadow. But today it was faded over th...

The following are poems that sprang out of my journal. I’ve been taking a class in contemplative writing that has opened the gate for my words, however they want to run. Research has shown handwriting can avert dementia. Even as a young woman I could feel poems rising, when my mind clouded over, cluttered. But I forgot. The less I pack my brain with pixels the more my own thoughts rise. It’s as if...

February 4, 2026 Last night the contrails looked like pick up sticks tossed out on the floor, with the challenge to pick them up without disturbing them. Then Orion clear and high in the sky. Finally got a picture of him towering over our house, the pine tree and an arrow pointed straight at him. (I didn’t know if anything would show because the phone showed only black. I barely held both dogs sti...

February 19, 2026 My gosh the train was loud this morning, so loud it hurt my ears. I watched two engines pulling tankers to the east. My phone dinged, so I checked it and Mr. Dog, who has been walking out kindly, thought it was cute to grab the leash and pull, grab my shoelaces and pull. Like Mrs. Horse, when my attention strays, the playful joker in him arrives. (Mrs. Horse would stop if my mind...