Watercolor of a sunrise with the words "Choose hope"

Thank you for being here.

Your presence makes me stronger, better able to face each day with a renewed sense of purpose and hope. Given all the bad news about the environment, the climate melt-down and social justice, you may wonder if there’s any reason to be hopeful about the future. There is!

How do I know? Because Krista Tippett1 says so:

“[H]ope for me is distinct from idealism or optimism. It has nothing to do with wishful thinking. It is a muscle, a practice, a choice: to live open-eyed and wholehearted in the world as it is and not as we wish it to be.”

Good thing hope is a muscle because there are no weightier reps I’d rather be doing than writing for you, here on Substack.

Why subscribe?

I’m convinced that our natural and built environments can inspire hope and a way forward in the current climate crisis. If you’re interested in resilience (climate and otherwise), architecture, community, and the mysteries of our relationship with the natural world, you are in the right place. I invite you to see the world through my eyes—with a sense of wonder, awe, and appreciation.

Subscribers receive

  • Weekly posts on Thursdays will alternate essays about books, buildings, and overlooked wonders with fiction and extras for the growing Walden Weekly community.

    • Close reading dives deep into the language of metaphor shared by both literature and architecture.

    • Ordinary and overlooked explores new ways of experiencing the world around us.

    • Books and buildings shares personal essays about architecture as both practice and career.

  • On the second Sunday of the Month, you’ll receive Talking Back to Walden, with audio of short passages selected from Thoreau’s 1854 classic. Together we’ll consider how his themes and observations hold up in our era of climate crisis—and all the other crises.

Paid subscribers receive

The satisfaction of supporting this project to give readers a sense of awe and appreciation of their surroundings. Plus my boundless gratitude and — if you’re into this sort of thing — a video of my singing dog, Brody.

Subscribe to get full access to the newsletter and website. Never miss an update.

Why I do this

Besides being in awe of nature’s design brilliance, I’m endlessly inspired by the vision and persistence of creative people—writers, artists, my architecture students, foodies and others. Creative work helps me to hear the voices of my ancestors guiding with love and compassion. Other days, it’s the children of our children’s children whispering, Keep dreaming, don’t be afraid.

Two photos: on left, two women work at a counter making ravioli; on right: neat rows of ravioli
That’s me, making ravioli with my Aunt Mary Jane, and (not pictured) my cousin, uncle and husband. And that’s what 160 freshly-made ravioli looks like.

Thanks for reading this far. Now it’s time for a little rest. So says Brody.

A yawning dog curled up at the front door. Big guy - white German shepherd, total sweetheart
Brody waits for his person to return home. It’s hard work.
1

I ask my students to read her short article on the first day of class, then we talk about what makes them despair and where are they finding hope. If they learn nothing else all semester, I wish for them to discover the wellspring of hope and strength that lives inside them. I know it’s there.

Subscribe to Building Hope

Deep dives into architecture, literature, and climate crisis. And my singing dog.

People

In awe of nature’s design brilliance. I teach architecture and write stories and essays to cultivate hope in the face of climate crisis. Born at 318 ppm.