Somewhere, an Agave Is Blooming
Agaves, Snack Plates, and What Stays With Us 🌵
Not long after we got married, my husband and I were on a walk when I stopped in my tracks. Towering in front of us was something I had never seen before, an agave stalk. Easily 15 feet tall, straight into the sky. It felt like we’d stumbled on a secret.
I was so mesmerized, I dragged my mom back a few weeks later to see it. It was gone. Cut down. And I felt weirdly heartbroken, like something sacred had been taken away.
It wasn’t until years later (last week, actually) that I finally understood what had happened.
Agaves wait decades to bloom: between 10 and 25 years of existence, calmly storing energy. Then, when the moment comes to them, they send up a magnificent stalk between 15 and 30 ft high and die. They burn through every reserve to fulfil their life’s purpose, known as a “Death Blossom.”
It’s their farewell letter to the world. One last act of beauty. Of purpose. Some people say you can hear it groan when it happens. It’s both haunting and beautiful.
It reminds me that some of the most meaningful things aren’t meant to last forever. They’re meant to leave something behind.
That stalk is everything we hope our own lives will be, a signal. A gesture. A legacy.
And sometimes, just remembering that even if you’re not where you thought you’d be by now, you’re not behind. You’re just storing up what you’ll need for when it’s your time to bloom.
No one’s keeping time. This isn’t a race. And when your moment comes, it won’t be quiet.
It’ll stretch 30 feet into the sky.
& now for the song of the week
This Week's Overlooked Design Move
Your kitchen counter tray. I know it sounds small, but stay with me
Most of us have this sad collection of bottles near the stove. Oil leaked on the counter. Salt that's gone backpacking around the kitchen.
Here's what changes everything:
The Sauté Tray
One Tray
One tall thing (lamp, olive oil, pepper mill)
One useful thing (salt bowl, coasters, wooden utensils)
One pretty thing (knives + stand, a salt cellar, something with soul)
Instant upgrade. Looks like you tried, but all you did was corral the chaos. Bonus points if the tray is vintage or heavy enough to hold its own.
If you’ve been meaning to upgrade, this is your sign.
11% off for the year, monthly or annual, whatever feels right.
No pressure. Just the good stuff, waiting when you’re ready.
This isn't really about ingredients. It's about the ritual of making something feel special when it's 4 PM and dinner feels impossibly far away.
Start with a plate that makes you happy (yes, the good one).
Add:
Something creamy (cheese, hummus, French yogurt if you're fancy)
Something crunchy (crackers, cucumber, radishes from the garden)
Something sweet (three grapes, a fig, those tiny strawberries)
Something surprising (a pickle, olives, that jam you forgot you had)
Something fresh (herbs from the yard, microgreens if you're that person)
Add a tiny spoon to whatever needs one.
Eat it outside if you can. Or by a window. Or standing at the counter while your kid tells you about their day.
The point isn't the food. It's the pause. The moment when you decide that Tuesday at 4 PM deserves something beautiful, too.
Wishbone Kitchen Cookbook: My son and I are cooking through it this summer. He calls himself my sous chef and insists on plating at all times of the cooking process. I’m in my proudest era.
Pheather’s Chic Toilet Rugs: Just trust me. Soft, beautiful, weirdly elegant. The design girlies will get it.
Softskin Theraplush Nightstand Lotion: Hydrating, pretty on the counter, and makes me feel like I have bedtime rituals even when I don’t.
Snack Plates All Summer: Teaching my son the fine art of girl dinner. Three kinds of cheese, fruit cut just so, maybe a pickle. The bar is wherever we set it.
I take on a few design clients each month. It's like therapy, but for your house. And cheaper. If you're interested, just reply. No formal process. We'll figure it out.
Memorial Day Sales 2025
If you're not in the mood to shop this year, I get it. Capitalism is tired. The economy is weird. You might just want to sit in the sun and ignore all the emails yelling “FINAL HOURS!” in all caps.
If you're not in the mood to shop this year, I get it. Capitalism is tired. The economy is weird. You might just want to sit in the sun and ignore all the emails yelling “FINAL HOURS!” in all caps.
But if you are in the mood to click, without doom-scrolling 14 websites. I rounded up the good ones. Stuff I actually own or would buy again.
I spent three weeks testing outdoor lamps (my neighbors are convinced I’m going through “a phase”), and here's what I learned.