Transitions are sometimes rocky. (Can I get an Amen, my fellow parents of preschoolers?) I know I was just talking about the celebrations and the asparagus and the season of the egg, just a week two weeks ago in fact. But. Continue reading
In addition to much squirrel watching and rock painting, fence climbing and flower picking, springtime brings Continue reading
Hanging laundry on the line means a moment outside, a moment to squint in the brightness and breathe the air and feel the energy shift as the boys find outlets other than each other. I’m a green warrior, solar-powered, unstoppable: “one must begin in one’s life the private solutions that will become public solutions …” Still, at the end, the laundry must be folded. An exercise in presence, in being thankful for each moment.
But sometimes I forget that part.
California turns golden (Kyle insists on calling it “brown”) by late spring, but right now, oh things are green around here. Last week we celebrated the equinox, and the official arrival of the spring. That same day – March 20th – would have been my mom’s 63rd birthday. In an unexpected alignment of so many things I love, I was able to celebrate with Dan and Gabe and our families, and with my Aunt Linna and my Uncle Lance. (And also with Gabe’s World-Famous Chimichurri Sauce. More on that in a minute.) Continue reading
When I read Luisa’s post on seville orange marmalade, her description of the tantalizing aroma in her apartment as the oranges cooked down took me straight back to December: orange peel candying on the stove and a house that smelled bright, sunny, freshly picked. Orange is one of my very favorite smells: citrus in general has a good showing in that category, but oranges take the winning spot over most anything, most days. It has been said a million times, but it is truth: oranges smell like sunshine would smell, if it only could. Continue reading
“More nornge” Lucas says, chin dripping juice, pointing to the pile of oranges on the kitchen counter. “More nornge, tree nornge.” He bites each slice clean, then places the peel gently, lovingly, into the line of sunny crescents he has built along the edge of the table. ”Pees more nornge.”
He eats them, and stacks them, until I cut him off.
