Since I first launched Wiley Canning Company in July 2020, I’ve written a weekly newsletter. It celebrates our accomplishments each week, previews what’s to come, and shares company announcements.

Nearly one year into writing this newsletter, I created a segment called, Thin Slices. It has become my favorite way to connect with you.

Thin Slices, named after one of my all-time favorite articles by Cup of Jo, intends to highlight fleeting moments, or thin slices, of joy, patience, heartache, and more that grow our hearts and minds. It is personal at times, witty at times, and simple it times. It is always written openly and honestly.

An archive of Thin Slices is below. It is organized by date and ordered from our newest newsletter to our oldest. It is updated weekly for you to read and enjoy.

Jump in below!

Week of December 13, 2021:

This holiday season, remember joy is unfailing and comes in thin slices.

Savor that first sip of coffee.

Revisit a beloved poem or story. 

Marvel at the tiny knuckles and tiny toes of your beloved one-year-old.

Week of December 06, 2021:

I stumbled across this book when I was searching for holiday gifts this week. My love affair with artwork of fruits and vegetables continues.

This leads me to a confession…

This past week, I experienced an intense longing for New York City. Specifically, I longed to be inside of The Metropolitan Museum of Art wrapped in a cozy sweater, supported by comfortable sneakers, and completely alone amongst crowds of fellow individuals, couples, and families with stories about which I know absolutely nothing. I would take note of a passerby’s perfume. I would admire a couple holding hands. I would daydream about one day bringing Sullivan to explore this historic, massive, and awe-inspiring entity. After my visit, I would board a plane to travel home where I would feel closer to myself because of this time.

But, I cannot go to New York City right now. Well, I cannot physically go to New York City right now. But…I can go to The Met without going to New York City, I realized.

I opened my laptop, went to the website of The Met, and explored the work of Severin Roesen and Diane Arbus. Then, something very magical happened.

Exploring The Met’s online catalogue satiated my longing to be there! I visited one of my absolute favorite places in the country without ever leaving my home. And I felt closer to myself after all because of this. I then made plans to visit Museo Soumaya in Mexico City this week once Sullivan is asleep for the night.

To end…

I tried a new-to-me wine last night. (It was an orange wine by Skins.) Jared picked it out, and as soon as he poured me a glass, I said…”This. This is my favorite color. It reminds you of Wiley, right?” 

Week of November 22, 2021:

This lively interview with Elizabeth Strout simultaneously uplifted and grounded me.

This poetic film made me fall more deeply in love with tomatoes. Tomatoes!

This independent magazine has enriched my mind through historical essays and tales of food.

Week of September 13, 2021:

Jared and I celebrated our seventh wedding anniversary this past Monday. I wrote a short essay on my personal website here and shared photos on my personal Instagram here to honor this special day. Jared plays a quiet and very crucial role in Wiley Canning Company as my husband, and today especially, I am so grateful to have him as my sounding board and teammate in all areas of my life. Speaking of our anniversary, below are three striking lessons on love.

Love is like a brunch buffet.

Love grows best between polarities.

Love asks, “Now, what are you having for dinner tonight?”

Week of September 06, 2021:

My baby boy turned nine months old on Monday. Nine! I’ve witnessed him experience thin slices of joy for nine straight months.

Sullivan loves his first sip of cool water of the day. He always seems very surprised as the coolness of his water meets the warmth of his mouth. He drinks, and he gulps. Then, as he pulls his cup away from his mouth, his eyes grow big as his smile grows bigger. Then, of course, taking a sip of water becomes par for the course, until the next morning, when he lights up all over again.

He loves the moment he realizes Jared or I have come into his room after he wakes up each morning. We typically see him before he sees us, and as soon as he notices us, he smiles so big we can see every tiny tooth in his gummy mouth. He currently has a single bottom tooth, and it is our absolute favorite of them all.

Finally, Sullivan nearly takes flight any time Jones walks into the room. His next inhale is audible due to complete exhilaration, and his entire body begins to bounce and jig.

It is an extraordinary honor to be the mother of Sullivan O’Leary. It is an extraordinary honor to witness him experience joy. It is an extraordinary honor to witness anyone experience joy, always.

Week of August 30, 2021:

René Redzepi, co-owner of Noma, oftentimes shares the most striking collages of fruits and vegetables.

Hey!

Hello.

Hi there!

Week of August 23, 2021:

Beautiful depictions of fruits and vegetables will never cease to make me daydream. Look at this. And this! Sigh.

Next…

Vera Brosgol recently released a children's book about canning! Memory Jars will be promptly purchased and placed on Sullivan’s bookshelf.

Lastly…

I’m really loving Glennon Doyle’s new podcast, We Can Do Hard Things, lately. Last month, I listened to an episode about parenting. Glennon is the mother of three, and I oftentimes find her words to be both practical and rich in wisdom.

In this episode, Glennon shared a description of time I had not yet heard. She explained the difference between Chronos time and Kairos time. Although she did so within a context of parenthood, I find that I now apply her description to so much more.

Below, you, too, can read her explanation of Chronos time and Kairos time and simply notice what comes to mind when you do.

“Carpe diem doesn’t work for me. I can’t even carpe fifteen minutes in a row, so a whole diem is out of the question. Here’s what does work for me.

There are two different types of time. Chronos time is what we live in. It’s regular time. It’s one minute at a time, staring down the clock until bedtime time. It’s ten excruciating minutes in the Target line time, four screaming minutes in time-out time, two hours until Daddy gets home time. Chronos is the hard, slow-passing time we parents often live in.

Then, there’s Kairos time. Kairos is God’s time. It’s time outside of time. It’s metaphysical time. Kairos is those magical moments in which time stands still. I have a few of those moments each day, and I cherish them.

Like when I actually stop what I’m doing and really look at [my daughter,] Tish. I notice how perfectly smooth and brownish her skin is. I notice the curves of her teeny elf mouth and her almond brown eyes, and I breathe in her soft Tishy smell. In these moments, I see that her mouth is moving, but I can’t hear her because all I can think is: This is the first time I’ve really seen Tish all day, and my God—she is so beautiful. Kairos.

Or when I’m stuck in Chronos time in the grocery line, and I’m haggard and angry at the slow checkout clerk. But then I look at my cart, and I’m transported out of Chronos. I notice the piles of healthy food I’ll feed my children to grow their bodies and minds, and I remember that most of the world’s mamas would kill for this opportunity. This chance to stand in a grocery line with enough money to pay. And I just stare at my cart. At the abundance. The bounty. Thank you, God. Kairos.

Or when the kids finally fall asleep, and I curl up in my cozy bed with my dog, Theo, asleep at my feet, and and I listen to him breathing. And for a moment I think, ‘How did a girl like me get so lucky? To go to bed each night surrounded by this breath, this love, this peace, this warmth?’ Kairos.

These Kairos moments leave as fast as they come, but I mark them. I say the word ‘Kairos’ in my head each time I leave Chronos. And at the end of the day, I don’t remember exactly what my Kairos moments were, but I remember I had them. That makes the pain of the daily parenting climb worth it.

If I had a couple Kairos moments, I call the day a success.

Carpe a couple of Kairoses a day.

Good enough for me.”

Isn’t this striking? Not only do I now think about Chronos and Kairos when parenting, but I also think about each when canning, pickling, and preserving. The practice of home food preservation requires time, patience, and close attention to detail, Chronos, but when I take my first bite of homemade jam atop warm toast and am subsequently flooded with joyful memories of childhood, I enter Kairos. These Kairos moments make hours and hours of research and rounds and rounds of testing worth every minute.

Week of August 16, 2021:

My son, Sullivan, loves strings: shoelaces, drawstrings, ribbons…you name it! Our nanny, Martha, arrived at our house on Monday with a gift for Sullivan. She brought him a new string!

Sometimes, when I think of acts of kindness, I tend to think big.

“One day, I might surprise Jared with a weekend trip.”

“This year, for Sullivan’s birthday, I want to fill his room with balloons.”

“When Wiley Canning Company turns two years old, perhaps I’ll throw a party.”

Martha’s sweet gesture toward Sullivan, the gift of a string, reminded me we can give small when we love big.

Do you want to show someone big love this week? Give small—as small as a new string.

Week of August 09, 2021:

Do you ever think about what is required to love or feel loved? Or rather, what isn’t?

This week, I took Jones, our 100-pound golden retriever, for an afternoon walk at our neighborhood’s park. Nearly five minutes into our walk, it began to rain. We quickly took cover beneath a nearby oak tree. Its thick, wide, and full branches created enough protection from the rain to keep us relatively dry. The sun was shining brightly, so I knew the rain wouldn’t last too long.

“We’ll wait it out here, Jones.”

There we were, Jones and I, standing under a canopy of green branches in the middle of an empty park as the rain poured around us. Suddenly, we became a team with a shared mission: to protect each other and to keep each other company until clearer skies arrived.

As we waited, I became completely overcome by my love for Jones. I was so overcome that I wanted to kneel to the ground, wrap my arms around his broad, fluffy neck, and hug him until the rain stopped.

And I did.

As I embraced him, I couldn’t help but begin thinking about why I love him so much. Traditionally speaking, Jones and I have never shared a meal. But, we eat together all the time. We’ve never had a conversation. But, we communicate with one another all the time. We’ve never exchanged vows or rings. But, we make and keep promises to each other all the time.

So, what is it that creates a sense of love? With Jones, it isn’t a shared meal. It isn’t the word “I” or “love” or “you” because he’s never spoken any of them. It certainly isn’t a list of vows or a set of rings.

Jones and I simply show up for each other. We take care of each other. Every hour of every day, we choose each other.

Isn’t it fascinating to think about what is or isn’t required to love and feel loved in certain relationships?

Today, I feel grateful to love and feel loved in a variety of ways. Today, I especially feel grateful to love and feel loved by Jones.

Thank you for letting me share this with you today, my recount of an afternoon full of thin slices of joy: the smell of heavy rain, the feeling of Jones wrapped in my arms, and the profound reminder that, sometimes, love doesn’t require a single word.

Week of August 02, 2021:

In January 2020, before our world turned inside out due to COVID-19, Jared and I saw one of my favorite musicians at the incomparable Ryman Auditorium. That musician was Brandi Carlile. During her concert, she shared a story that has stayed with me.

Brandi and her wife, Catherine, welcomed their first daughter, Evangeline, into the world over seven years ago. When Evangeline was first born, Brandi admitted her connection with her was not immediate. She was so confused by this. She felt so much shame about this. Brandi herself did not carry Evangeline; Catherine did. So, Catherine’s connection with her was more immediate and clearer.

Brandi shared how she didn’t quite feel at home in this new role. She wasn’t Evangeline’s father, and she didn’t carry her. She said friends and family treated her as if she was indeed Evangeline’s father, but…she was not.

So, she needed a mantra she could repeat over and over again to remind her of her precious role in Evangeline’s life. That mantra was, “I am the mother of Evangeline,” and it became her internal touchstone every hour of every day.

“I am the mother of Evangeline.”

“I am the mother of Evangeline” became The Mother—an anthem that has played hundreds of times in our home and in the homes of many others.

Deeply moved by this story, I decided I, too, need a mantra as I bring the Wiley Canning Company cookbook to life—a dream I’m pursuing as I raise my own baby. What mantra will remind me of my precious role as a soon-to-be author and my precious role as a mother?

What is it I need to repeatedly hear?

“I will be both because I can be both.”

I can be a mother, and I can be an author. I can do this. I will be a mother, and I will be an author. I will do this.

What is one thing you might need to repeatedly hear this season?

Don’t wait for someone else to share it with you. Write it yourself for yourself, and repeat it over and over again—every hour of every day—until you feel its truth from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

I will be both because I can be both.

Speaking of women who move me, my new mantra reminds me of this poem by Kate Baer.

And, speaking of Kate Baer, I will end today by telling you I wrote it from Panera Bread because fast WiFi and accessible outlets go a long, long way these days.

Week of July 26, 2021:

I came across some parenting advice recently that made me think, “I want to print and frame this.” It’s below.

“Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is the way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples, and pears.
Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.”

It was written by William Martin and can be found in his book, The Parent's Tao Te Ching: Ancient Advice For Modern Parents.

The line, “Show them the joy of tasting tomatoes, apples, and pears,” hits home, doesn’t it?

Speaking of parenting advice, this episode of We Can Do Hard Things resonated this week. This question struck me like an arrow…

“What if a parent is just someone who’s walking, you know, in front of this other human just a little bit further down the road, just trying to show them how to forgive yourself for being human and treat other people and yourself with some kindness and decency?”

Lastly…

As you know, we spent last week at the beach. We felt lucky to simply “parent somewhere beautiful,” a mantra (and perspective) a dear friend shared with me as we began traveling with Sullivan for the first time. Traveling with Sullivan, of course, feels completely new and different than traveling alone or with Jared. When I think of traveling with Sullivan as parenting him somewhere beautiful or raising him near the ocean for a brief moment in time or surrounding him with the sounds of new people, music, and land, it changes everything. Traveling with Sullivan becomes enlivening. Here it is again.

Week of July 12, 2021:

I loved this perspective on love.

I was reminded that, sometimes, moments of rest or recovery can remain simple. Here’s one explanation. Here’s another, and here’s a third.

Do you ever screenshot sweet moments from a text thread? I do. This week, Jared and I have each had full, full days. Yesterday, while we were both working, we each found a brief moment to check in with each other. Our conversation looked like this…

“Hi. Miss you.”

“Hi, love.”

“Hi.”

*Screenshot.*

Week of July 05, 2021:

I read and loved a new-to-me description of friendship.

I learned and loved a new-to-me word.

I heard and loved a new-to-me song.

Week of June 28, 2021:

Laila Gohar throws parties for fruits and vegetables.

Erika Lee Sears beautifully paints fruits and vegetables.

We are, seemingly always, collectively drawn to fruits and vegetables.

Week of June 21, 2021:

I spent Tuesday evening with four close girlfriends around a fire discussing work, parenthood, and transitions. It was healing. It was healing because it was loving.

When Sullivan was a newborn, I filled with guilt any time I left him. I would tell him, “Mama loves you so much. I love you when I’m with you and when I’m away from you.” 

I explored this guilt with my therapist, and she shared something with me that I think about on a daily basis. 

She said, “Sullivan experiences all kinds of love: his mother’s love, his father’s love, his babysitter’s love, his grandma’s love, and so on. When Sullivan is with you, he experiences your love. When he is with his babysitter, he experiences her love. When you are away, Sullivan experiences different and unique kinds of love. This is so loving, you see. Sullivan is well loved.”

We, too, need all kinds of love as adults. We do not magically because less human as we age; therefore, our needs are oftentimes as fundamental as a newborn’s needs. Love—to love and be loved—is at the top of this list of needs.

I experienced my girlfriends’ love on Tuesday. I, too, am well loved.

Lastly, I want to share two reminders with us today…

Dogs are always great company.

Life can turn out wonderfully. 

Week of June 14, 2021:

Art is sustenance.

Jared’s first Father’s Day is this Sunday.

New York is coming back. (Eh hem!)

Week of May 31, 2021:

We can take pride in being interested.

I often listen to this commencement speech and subsequently feel extra driven to make my bed each and every day.

I cooked with this beautiful garlic this week.

Plus…

I received an email recently that included the line, “I've gone back to school (at the ripe young age of 59!),” and I immediately applauded this person from afar. I literally clapped and cheered at my desk! Here’s to blooming over and over again, my friends.

Week of May 24, 2021:

My close friend recently began working at Little Seed Farm. This means I am now the lucky recipient of videos like this.

My self-care this weekend will be free.

My mom arrives today for a visit!

Week of May 17, 2021:

I was reminded to bloom where I am planted.

I was told, “There was a day in the past when you wished for what you have right now. Notice that.” Phew. Does this ring true for you?

I was, once again, struck by the beauty of simple markets like Cookbook in Los Angeles and Suculenta in Oaxaca. (This precious market is 30 to 40 minutes from Nashville.)

Week of May 10, 2021:

I listened to Brené Brown’s recent interview with Abby Wambach on Unlocking Us and immediately ordered Wolfpack.

I was instantly struck by this poem. (We were born with a limitless supply of encouragements.)

Many writers have recently begun sending private newsletters. Laurel Pantin’s, InStyle magazine’s Style Director, is a current favorite.