The weight of what's missing

Catching up on stories you might have missed and measuring loss one tiny teaspoon at a time.

Did anyone notice that the loquat trees didn’t produce any fruit this year?

I’ve been going through my Substack archive to remove the paywall on stories that are more than a year old, and I found a bunch of gems to share here, including a post about how those precious orange fruits made a long-awaited appearance last year.

It’s been interesting to reflect on what’s changed in a year.

What it was like to go to Prague and Sweden to see people I love and learn about these old cities full of wonderful things.

What it was like to shift into a new chapter of parenthood where I only have one kid at home.

What it was like to face the ongoing political news cycle that is more unbelievable by the day.

St. Mark’s Methodist Church in North Austin, where I worked several elections and picked up Meals on Wheels for more than two years, is closing its doors on June 30.

Last summer, I changed the name of this newsletter from The Feminist Kitchen to The Invisible Thread because that’s what I realized I had been paying attention to and writing about for many years now: the things that connect us that we cannot see.

It wasn’t until I started doing the work of rebranding this website that I came to appreciate the power of these hidden forces, like longing for loquats or rain or standing upright when the gravity of life feels heavier than usual.

So, this week, as I put the finishing touches on a big ghostwriting project I’ve been working on for more than a year (!), I wanted to share these (now free) posts about the history of Swedish food in Texas and that genealogy library in Indiana and that terrible incident with the bees last Memorial Day.

Before I go to my little writing cave this week, I’ll share one last photo to cap off the ordeal adventure with my house that has consumed my life for the past six months.

As I went through the house one final time to make sure it was clean and ready for the new tenants, I found this tiny teaspoon and two key rings in one of the drawers.

How this one piece of kitchen equipment got in this drawer is beyond me, but I took it as an omen that there’s something to be said about carrying the enormous weight of anything, one teeny tiny teaspoon at a time.

Until next week,

Addie

P.S. Thanks to subscribers who make this newsletter possible! For $45 a year, you can support independent journalism like these stories, which are published each week. I couldn’t do this without the support of readers like you.

Where did Texas' Swedish food culture go?

Falling for Prague: Kolaches, Kafka and one very old castle (no, not that one)

The day the bees won

The return of the long lost loquat

Ladies, you built this game

The high school teacher who taught us like kindergarteners

48 hours in Fort Wayne, Indiana (and 1.2 million reasons to go)

'The past is another country'

When a friendship needs a makeover

When uncertainty eats innovation for lunch

5 days in Oaxaca: What to know before you go