Oh, August. Already. And how?
Three years in on canning and jam, we have officially declared a tradition: Ann started a file. Now we will look back and remember, year over year. What we processed, what our yields were. Remember, too, the people and the stories that swirl around and through the steam in the canning kitchen. Continue reading
We made a beach trip with some of our best buddies. We brought brownies, they brought their new $5 boogie boards. Hours passed in a moment and then, when we were sand-covered and the ocean had laced salt onto our limbs and we had piled into our hot car that still smelled of chocolate and turned north to head home, J said, “Can we get boogie boards?” Continue reading
The day before the solstice, we went to the beach. We were sweatshirted up, expecting June Gloom, but there was not a cloud in sight when we pulled into the parking lot. The Pacific was sparkling green-blue over gray, celebrating the sun with us. We peeled off the layers, and the kids raced on the sand, and our hands were sticky with peach juice and it felt like summer was starting. Continue reading
“I’m part of the whole universe,” Jacob tells me. I am sitting across the foot of his bed, hugging my knees, leaning back against the wall. It is dark, the nighttime quiet punctuated by Lucas’s soft snoring. Jacob’s feet push at my leg from under his striped comforter. “I feel so cozy right now, because you are next to that edge, and I have my red blanket.” He yawns. “The universe is so big and we are all part of it. Like how all the sand makes the beach.”
January is our rainy season, but it has not rained this year. Where usually by now green runs rampant, the ground is instead insistently brown. Hardy oxalis, usually so lush, speckles the bluffs with a faint whisper of color. Its yellow flowers are bright under the strange winter sun, the sky an eerily deep, cloudless blue. Continue reading
The rain arrived today, and I was glad. After a morning of fingers slammed in doors and heads caught in bag handles, of favorite shirts gone missing and rain boots on the lam – after that morning, I was ready for some soft edges, craving the fresh clean smell of the wide wet world, anticipating the coziness of twisting steam and rain-blurred windows.