October 13th, 1886. The Dickerson family gathered together every year on the anniversary of the family patriarch, Josef Dickerson’s, death.

My name is Grace Nuth, and I curate my Instagram. What exactly does that mean? Well, for one thing it means I spend far too much time thinking about things like color scheme, symmetry, mood, and story. But it’s something I love doing, and I thought it might be fun to give you an inside glimpse on what it’s like to have an Instagram that’s curated and used as a form of artistic and personal expression.

I was planning to write another blog today. One about how important it is to retain innocence and a sense of wonder as an adult, even though the older we get, the harder it is, and the more strength and willpower it takes. I still want to write that blog, but I can’t at the moment. Because I don’t feel any of it right now.

This year has sucked. It just has. There have been moments of joy, but we’re all just exhausted from the fear, news, and devastation of 2020. It’s time for the joy of fall. The enjoyment of Halloween.

I first visited Oregon in 1997, when I was seventeen years old, and dating a young man from Corbett. In the days before the internet and texting, I would run out to the old metal mailbox in front of our farm house every afternoon to see if the mailman had left a letter from Jesse.