Nice to Meet You.
How does a journalist who lived in New York City for 15 years suddenly find herself residing in an 1847-era cottage on a 30-acre farm in the New Jersey countryside? That’s for me to know and you to find out, eventually. (Who am I kidding, I’m still working through that question.) But hey, while you’re here, hello! I’m a writer who’s lived two very different lives—aggressively urban and shockingly rural—while penning articles for Kinfolk Magazine, Vanity Fair, Vulture, and more. I’m also working on my first fiction novel (agents, call me! That’s how it works, right?)
I’m an obsessive researcher—I’ve never met a library, Google search, dusty shelf of microfiche containers, or Wikipedia footnote I didn’t like. I cannot resist vintage coupe glasses, antique books, romantic dresses paired with sneakers, and loose leaf tea. I know if a space is haunted the second I step inside. I’ve perfected the art of walking while reading. I’m stubbornly working through the techniques behind foraging, gardening, watercoloring, pressing flowers, pinning bugs, and baking. So far, I haven’t killed my sourdough starter Lorna.
On top of all that, I’m also an occasional farmsitter in the Catskills—sheep, alpacas, goats, ducks, chickens, turkeys, mules, guinea hens, dogs, cats, and even a lizard have survived (perhaps thrived) under my care. The natural world constantly inspires me, and I try to share something beautiful every day via my Instagram page, where I also post pretty scenes and serendipitous happenings, sometimes-successful cooking pursuits, and self-portraits from my daily life. I can, as Colleen Dewhurst’s splendid Marilla Cuthbert once said, “Talk the hind leg off a mule.” Come to think of it, I’m basically an L.M. Montgomery character with platinum-dyed hair and tattoos. Oh, and my last name is pronounced Kal-ew-tea, if you were wondering.