Trail markers

j and l runI tell myself that I will remember them, running along the sidewalk to the pool, all sun-bleached hair and palpable joy. I will remember their sand-covered toes, the warm sweaty weight of their heads on my shoulder, the exact way that Lucas says “I not too little,” and how Jacob sounds out “square” as “scary.” I tell myself that I will remember, I will remember just how this summer is. I take pictures, to be my trail markers.

boys at pool

Of course, I know enough by now to tell you that memory doesn’t work that way. Continue reading

Fits and starts

cauliflowerTransitions 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

When all the world is green

green and growingIn addition to much squirrel watching and rock painting, fence climbing and flower picking, springtime brings Continue reading

All the ancient wisdom

willow blossomsHanging 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.

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Happy birthday, happy spring

Gabe's Magic SauceCalifornia 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

Here comes the sun

bitter orangesWhen 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