Reflections on Tahilla Gatherings
Tahilla Gatherings: A Return to Connection
November, 2021
We gathered. We listened. We lingered. We walked beneath the tall trees, our words weaving into a story, settling into the quiet places of the farm. We spoke of reinvention—the roads we’ve traveled, the turns we didn’t expect, the ones still waiting beyond the bend.
After two years away, how did it feel to stand once more at the helm of Tahilla Gatherings, welcoming kindred spirits to this hidden retreat in the woods of New Hampshire? It felt like a homecoming.
How did it feel to collaborate alongside my longtime blogging friend, Sharon Santoni of My French Country Home? Effortless. Like picking up a well-worn book, returning to a favorite chapter, the words still familiar, still full of meaning.
We shared what felt like a cuiart—a Scottish Gaelic word for an expedition, a pilgrimage, a heartfelt visit. The warmth remains, lingering like the scent of woodsmoke and fallen leaves.
I close my eyes and I see it still. Voices rising, laughter spilling across the room, the hush of a shared moment, the flicker of candlelight on aged pine. I hear it in the rustling leaves, in the crackling fire, in the soft exhale of women setting into a space where stories flow and time bends.
These days felt like a pilgrimage. Each moment, a step along a path.
Day One: A Conversation on Reinvention
Twelve remarkable women gathered in a circle, each with their own story, each standing at a threshold. We spoke of change, of longing, of possibility. Sharon and I traced the arcs of our own journeys—hers through My French Country Home, mine through the winding roads of expat life and the quiet unfolding of Tahilla Gatherings. And then, we opened the space.
One by one, the voices joined in. An engineer-turned-artist, layering landscapes in oil and pigment. An open-water swimmer, navigating both miles and meaning. A lawyer, tracing the history of porcelain across continents. A biologist and physicist, shaping beauty with her hands.
The room cradled us in its quiet strength—ivory walls bathed in the afternoon light, the golden grain of worn wood beneath our feet, six tall windows framing the poetry of white birch and shifting sky. If Robert Frost had wandered in from the woods, I would not have been surprised.
We moved from room to forest, from spoken words to shared laughter. Lunch stretched long at the farmhouse table, bowls passed, stories exchanged. A walk along the poetry trail, our footsteps falling into an easy rhythm. And as twilight gathered, we circled the fire, warm with coffee, sweet with the lingering taste of brownies, and something even richer—connection.
Day Two: A Creative Table for Gathering
A new day, a new gathering. Sharon led us through the quiet artistry of arranging foraged foliage, a lesson in both creation and observation. We began as before—coffee in hand, introductions drifting into stories, a gentle unfolding.
From the welcoming room, we moved to the indoor porch, then to the farmhouse table, layering autumn offerings- oak, maple, the blush of pear branches. Candles flickered. Glasses clinked. And as we feasted, we gave thanks- not just for the meal, but for the simple beauty of gathering, of making, of sharing.
As the last car disappeared down the winding road, Sharon and I stood together, a quiet moment between us. Just four weeks earlier, this had been an idea. Two years earlier, I had wondered if this— Tahilla Gatherings— would return.
The answer, now, was undeniable. Yes. Yes, and more. And this time, I was ready—my business hat firmly in place, my heart open for all that comes next.
A Circle, Years in the Making
Sharon and I met years ago, two women drawn together by blogging words, by the way, beauty speaks in the quiet spaces of life. Our friendship began like a letter sent across the ocean, unfolding over time, and growing in shared interests.
When I first walked this land in 2012, I felt its calling. I saw gatherings not yet formed, stories not yet told. By 2019, Tahilla Gatherings had taken its place in that vision, a home for conversations and creativity, for women seeking something more.
Why do I do this? For the stories. For the moment when a buried truth rises to the surface when a woman steps fully into the power of her own unfolding..
These two days reminded me why.
So, I will hold onto these moments a little longer, tucking them away like pressed leaves between the pages of a book. And when the time comes, I will gather again.
Because this is what we do at Tahilla Gatherings.
Along the Poetry Trail...
Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers,
what softened sound from outside fills the air?
Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
than the breathing respect that you carry wherever you go right now?
Are you waiting for time to show you some better thoughts?
When you turn around, starting here, lift this new glimpse that you found;
carry into evening all that you want from this day.
This interval you spent reading or hearing this, keep it for life-
What can anyone give you greater than now, starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?
—William Edgar Stafford (1914–1993)
