23 posts
First flush of warmth since that cold stretch, a month running it was, bitter, too cold to dissipate the ice encasing cars and sidewalks. We worked so hard to clear a path with pickaxes, not shovels. One month later, no transition time, no chance to wear cardigans, we go straight to short sleeve tees as summer descends, briefly parachuting in.
The woman walking the other direction gives a bare hint of a smile, a glint of half-hidden joy as she passes my daughter running down the sidewalk, determined little limbs swinging merrily, bike helmet still on. The woman is still smiling as she passes me a moment later, carrying the scooter my daughter abandoned. She meets my eyes, a flash of amusement in hers, a graceful half nod, keeps walking, wordless.
Volunteering with the local elementary school, a fellow mom recounts her history in our neighborhood. “We just closed on a house in the neighborhood, and this is our first year at the school. But I’ve been living here since my 20s,” she confides, “I used to walk around here with my boyfriend at the time, looking at all the parents with strollers and dogs, thinking how that was everything I wanted, the house, the kids, the dog. . .”
Remember that that feeling of the first Monday back at work after the holidays? Did you drag your feet, struggling to get back on the well-trained horse of ruthless productivity? I must have heard the phrase “I’m having a hard time getting going” a dozen times. (Or perhaps the predictable, or at least...
Birthday Cake To the members of the Mid-Week Retreat Core Group, who have become family and love our kids well. XOXO
Haven does not want to be on a stage. It is clear on those accidental occasions when she is put on one anyway, when, for example, the current of the school calendar winds its way through events like ‘spring concert,’ and ‘poetry festival.’ With a dozen other four-year-olds, she is, with great...
“How can you tell a story about plants or chores that would be very interesting?” A friend offered this honest response to my invitations to join the upcoming experiential storytelling workshops. “Maybe it takes someone who’s good at creative writing,” he continued, with an unspoken note of regret: And I’m not that someone. Perhaps you...
The peony plant is in its third year. By now it should be developing deep roots, eyes forming along the original tuber as it spreads underground to form multiple stalks, shooting up into an abundance of blooms. This plant is a dark red color I adore, the deep maroon that formed the...
“I meditate on what is great” – the opening lines of a song I’ve been taken by the past few weeks. The end of a long work day, a frantic push to get something done on an impossibly tight timeline, the baton momentarily passed out of my hand. My son, the only child at home....
One of my stated goals of the sabbatical I took between April-December 2024 was spend more time reading for the joy of it. Do you love to read? I do, in theory. But in ordinary life, it seems I love less the reading, and more self-improvement. I’m mildly embarrassed at the designation...
I pull nearly everything from the crisper out onto the counter, the staples you can munch mindlessly, raw, that I keep on hand for my best kid-hack, the ‘rainbow platter.’ The wilting scallions. The zucchini starting to go off. To this I add the pittance of vegetables I have grown and harvested...
“I shall not want” the chorus echoes, a refrain I hold like a worn lovey. It is hard explaining this to my children, who cannot fathom a world without the primal fire of wanting, or why that would be a good thing. “Think about everything you want, the things you need, the...
Brioche is a physically and emotionally demanding project, a labor of love. I bequeath it upon my loved ones on special occasions, a long holiday weekend or a beloved teacher’s birthday. It’s what you do when you want to wow someone. I once blew my daughter’s friends’ minds when, on my turn...
A friend offered to bring cake to our weekly small group meeting, but held off when she heard I was planning to bake a cake. “My dessert can wait til next week. I can’t say no to a Jeannie Rose cake!” I replied, “It’s mostly an excuse to use up some clementines...
For the last few weeks, instead of writing I’ve been attempting to discern sheet quality by enlarging photos online, scrubbing toilets (just one toilet, actually), wiping away dust with endless squirts of Lysol, scouring shades of sky blue paint for the one that looks right in our now-bright basement light. (That quest...
It’s unfortunately the case that roasting a rotten eggplant does nothing to improve the situation. I love eggplant, enough that I displaced some tomatoes this year to make room to grow it for the first time. I’d call it a success; we harvested a few fruit before leaving for a long summer...
Today’s cake begins last fall, with pancakes. More precisely, our five year old son’s desire to share the joy of pancakes with his soccer team. Our pre-soccer Saturday morning tradition, in addition to those glorious morning snuggles, is sourdough discard pancakes, made from the gloppy, sour mash leftover from feeding my sourdough...
When I see the school administrator lighting up my phone Tuesday morning, my heart fills with dread. Since early December, when we left for an early holiday family visit, we’ve had one blissful day of all three kids in childcare. There’s a direct correlation between number of days in a row the...
I have a gift for you.Here it is, at your disposal:A clear blue sky,Glistening sun, A snowy field,silence.You are invited, if you choose,To lay down. No one is forcing you.You may remain on your feet,Walk those sensible boots back to a warm, dry place.No one will know.Or you may, if you choose,Nestle yourself Into this...
The rain feels fat and semi-solid, like snow that has only just melted moments before landfall. We’re holed up indoors, except for one intrepid trip down treacherously compacted-snow-covered back stairs: time to put the Christmas decorations away, now that we’re in Epiphany; time to empty a week and a half of frozen...
My spiritual director tells me she thinks God is inviting me to make a cake. At the end of our session, we sit in silence together. You think that sounds awkward, try sitting in silence with someone over Zoom. But it doesn’t feel awkward to me, it feels like a reprieve: permission...
“They went on their way, and the star they had seen when it rose went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then...
I feel a pang of guilt every time I go out to the back yard. There’s always something ugly about it, something ragged, overgrown, in need of tidying. There’s almost always something growing too; the rate at which growing things outpace my available time is part of the problem. There’s always more...