Carie Juettner

Balanced Between the Pages: My Past, Present, and Future Reading

First, let us tune in to a conversation inside my brain, already in progress…

Irrational Side of My Brain: “January is slipping away and we haven’t even blogged about our 2026 reading goals yet!”

Rational Side of My Brain: “It’s January 7th. Chill. Also, no one is currently sitting at their computer anxiously waiting for us to post our reading goals.” *

Irrational Side: (wide-eyed, whispering) “Okay but let’s hurry up and do it anyway.”

Rational Side: (sighing) “Fine.”

Just a few of the books on my to-read list.

Happy New Year, everyone! Welcome to my brain. Does anyone else get overwhelmed with the desire to reflect on everything that happened during the past year AND set goals for the coming year all at the same time? I know I said I would embrace the liminal in2026, but I feel like I need a non-week between December 31st and January 1st that doesn’t actually exist in the real world just so I can FINISH the old year before STARTING the new one. I need time to CATCH UP and PREPARE, TIDY and CREATE, REFLECT and RESOLUTE. (<– Is that a word?**) I imagine this week looking something like Janet’s void from The Good Place.

But since that non-week doesn’t exist, I used the first real week of the new year to get myself organized, and now I feel like for the rest of 2026, I’ll be a week behind. ***

So let’s get to it. The clock is ticking.

* Note: If you actually have been anxiously waiting for me to post my reading goals, please don’t tell me. The irrational side of my brain doesn’t need the encouragement.

** RESOLVE. That’s the word I was looking for. Lol.

*** No spoilers, please.

The Past

Last year, I set a goal to read a total of 65 books and complete one bingo card.

I actually finished my book bingo blackout in August (go me!) but it took me until December 28th to complete my 65th book. (Several were children’s or middle grade, so they were quick reads, just FYI.)

My cousin sent me a cool chart for determining your favorite book of the year. Here’s mine:

Filling this out was difficult because some months I read lots of books I loved, while other months didn’t have any real winners. However, it was fun to make, and I stand by my favorite book of the year: Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver.

Devotions was my favorite book of 2025 for many reasons. For one thing, it had been on my reading list for years, and it’s always nice to move a long-time “to-read” title over to the finished pile. Also, since the book is a large collection of poems, I read it slowly from the beginning of February to the beginning of October, so the pages kept me company for eight long months and traveled with me many times to Staycation, my favorite (and now gone) coffee shop. If anyone had been watching me read at Staycation (creepy), they may have noticed me turning the pages backwards. That’s because the author’s most recent poems were at the beginning of the collection, with her older work at the end, and I wanted to read her words in the order that she wrote them.

But the best part of Devotions was not when or where or how I read it, but the content itself. Mary Oliver’s poems look closely at nature, wildlife, humanity, faith, and death. Her subjects resonate with me, her style appeals to me, and there were multiple moments when one of her lines or stanzas took my breath away with its poignancy. Devotions inspired me to write many new poems of my own, and I’m quite pleased with a few of them. I’m so glad I read it.

The Future (Yes, I know I’m going out of order. Irrational brain has taken over again.)

This year, I have three reading-related resolutions.

I set the same goal to read 65 books this year, since it seemed like an achievable but challenging number last year.
I made a new book bingo card. No book may count for more than one square here, and I hope to get another blackout.

To make your own bingo card, visit this post.

3. I’m going to attempt to read a book that starts with every letter of the alphabet. Articles (a, an, the) at the start of a title will not count, and I will allow any book with “x” in the first word to count for the letter X.

Additionally, I’m going keep track of the colors of the books I read on the page below, with no real goal in mind except to make a pretty, colorful bookshelf.

That’s what’s in store for my 2026 reading year. I’d love to hear what’s on your to-read pile!

The Present

We are now a week into 2026. The past has passed and the future has been carefully organized into to-do lists. It’s time to focus on the present.

I usually only carry over one, maybe two, liminal books from one year to the next, but this year… I have five. These are the books that crossed the threshold of the year with me.

I began reading each of these titles in November or December, and when the calendar flipped on January 1st, they were all still unfinished.

It’s funny—I didn’t realize the common themes among them until I started putting this blog post together. Desks, writing, witches, plants, and definitely the color green. Maybe there’s a message here in this specific collection of books I’m carrying across the divide into 2026. (And maybe not.) Either way, now that the goal setting is over and I’ve stepped out of my void, it’s time to live in the present moment.

I hope you have a lovely evening. I’m going to curl up in a cozy corner and read.

12 Joys of 2025

I’m grateful that 2025 gave me so many reasons to celebrate. I’m even more grateful that I’ve learned to look for celebrations everywhere—in the small, the everyday, the unexpected. Here are 12 moments that I celebrated this year. There are many more, some larger, some less noticeable. It is not a competition. These are the ones I want to share with you.

January

In January 2025, it snowed. As a person who has lived in Texas all my life, I can’t imagine snow ever not feeling magical. My favorite part this time was finding animal tracks in the dusting of white.

February

In February 2025, my husband and I rescued a young mama opossum who was stuck in a tree. She spent a couple of weeks recuperating at North Texas Wildlife Center before being released back into the wild.

March

In March 2025, we fostered the sweetest little black cat (who found a loving forever family in May). It was so fun watching her explore the house and play with our two boys.

April

In April 2025, we got to watch seven adorable, funny, rambunctious fox kits play on our property. This was so special to get to see. I spent a solid week just staring at the footage from my trail cam.

This is my favorite video of the fox babies:

May

In May 2025, we celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary with a lovely nature hike.

June

In June 2025, I took my hubby and my parents to meet my friend’s one-week-old baby donkey.

July

In July 2025, I went on a thoroughly enjoyable trip to Northampton, Massachusetts, to visit two good friends. There, I got my fill of good food, beautiful art, coffee shops, bookstores, gardens, nature walks, and great conversations.

August

Hubby and I went on a wonderful trip to Bar Harbor, Maine, and Acadia National Park. I especially loved hiking the trails around Beech Mountain.

September

I watched the garden I planted earlier in the year start to thrive.

October

I found a new hiking trail with beautiful, unique trees that I really love.

November

I sat on the floor to do crafts and stayed up late making creative, artsy messes (with a little help from my cats).

December

You all know how much I love found poetry. I enjoy making found poems out of magazine collages, book titles, and Wordles, just to name a few. Well, in December, 2025 a lovely little found poem found ME with absolutely no effort on my part, and I’m still tickled about it.

On December 27th, my family got together to celebrate Christmas. I had stepped outside for a few minutes (probably to pet a cat or look for a fox) just as everyone else was gathering to take a group photo. My dad called to ask where I was just as I stepped back into the house. I declined his call (since I was ten feet from him), but he didn’t hang up, so his phone stayed on, leaving me a garbled two-minute voicemail of my fourteen family members debating how to organize ourselves for the picture. When my phone helpfully translated that voicemail into text, this is what I received:

I love it. I genuinely love it. I couldn’t have described the scene better myself. What a fabulous little unexpected delight!

***

There they are… 12 of my joys from 2025. When I sat down to write this post, I didn’t know yet what I was going to include. For each month, I looked back through my planner and goals and accomplishments and photos and chose something that stood out to me. Now that I’m done, I’m not surprised by what I see: wildlife, cats, nature, travel, creativity, and a little poetry. These are the things that make me happy, after all. Here’s to more of them in 2026.

Care to share? I’d love to hear what moments you celebrated in 2025!

Celebrating the Solstice & Embracing the Liminal

My new favorite word is liminal.

Not only is “liminal” a lovely word to say and feel on the lips, reminding me a bit of that scene in Donnie Darko, about “cellar door” being the most beautiful combination of words in the English language, but I love its meaning too.

My old red dictionary defines it as “of, pertaining to, or situated at the limen,” and limen means threshold.

My online dictionary defines it as “occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold” or “relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process.”

Other words and phrases that come to mind when I think of “liminal” are…

on the verge
between
blurring edges
borders
having a hand in two worlds
transition
transformation
possibilities & potential
fleeting
almost and not quite and soon

Liminal makes me think of twilight, one of my favorite times of day, when the air can be purple or yellow or pink or just a calm cozy shadowy gray, when the crows go to sleep, when the opossums wake and crunch through the leaves looking for snacks, when the first stars appear, when the question pops into my head—“Do I want a campfire tonight?”—when I sit on the porch and look and listen and don’t want to come inside because I might miss something.

Liminal makes me think of witchery. When does a tea become a potion? When does a thought become a prayer? Where is the line between admiring a tree and worshipping it? What’s the difference between writing a poem and casting a spell? Is there one?

Liminal reminds me of this whole time of year, the weeks between October and January, transitioning through Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Winter Solstice, Christmas, and New Year, giving treats and thanks and gifts and blessings, watching the trees change color and making resolutions.

I think LIMINAL will be my word for 2026. Maybe I’m on the verge of something. A new identity? A new project? A new path? Or maybe I’m finally just recognizing how “liminal” life is in general, always changing, always balancing between one direction and another. I’m turning fifty in the upcoming year—the start of my own personal twilight?—so perhaps that’s the threshold inspiring me to embrace hazy boundaries and be open to unexplored territories.

Speaking of unexplored territories, I’ve never actually celebrated the solstice before, which I feel a bit strange admitting since I love nature and feel a strong connection to the earth this time of year. However, it’s never too late to start a new tradition. Tomorrow, on the first day of winter, I’ll build a fire and… see what happens. I may make some nature-inspired crafts or do a tarot reading for the new year or write some poetry by the light of the flames.

Care to join me? I don’t mean literally. This year I’m craving some quiet time to myself amongst all the social gatherings and holiday travel, so I’ll be celebrating the solstice solo. But there is power in community, even from afar, and I believe that collective positivity can light up the world, even on the darkest night of the year. So, consider taking a moment or two tomorrow to appreciate nature and honor the Earth and offer up some affirmation to the atmosphere.

If you don’t have time for a full solstice ritual, I encourage you to spend a few minutes listening to this hauntingly beautiful choral rendition of Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” composed by Eric Whitacre. I had the pleasure of hearing my friend’s choir perform this piece at their Winter Solstice concert last week, and the experience has stuck with me. The song itself is an embodiment of the word “liminal,” a balancing act between poetry and music, walking the line between eerie and enchanting.

Whatever you do tomorrow, do it with intention and appreciation for the world around you.