We finish The Saturdays. My son perfects his mac-and-cheese recipe, my 5-year-old cleans the baseboards. We hop on and off the carousel of graduation parties, exchanging checks and poetry for food truck treats on hot nights. In a dear friend’s backyard, a surprise storm blows in and the girls dance in the rain while the
We sing Happy Birthday to the dog. I tease my daughter’s hair for an 80’s dance, teach her the fine art of a French cuff. I catch myself humming Conjunction Junction while folding the whites. We bake Homer Price cookies, double the batch. Our youngest exchanges her first baby tooth for a rubber ball. I send
Our first big snow arrived over the weekend, all gusts and billows, and our dear town was nearly plummeted in the best of ways. The neighborhood children scattered into yards front and back, wrapped in pom pom hats and last season’s too-small snow pants. Red-cheeked and breathless, they set out producing all manner of festive
I stock the pantry with beans, set bowlfuls aside for creative bounty. We dip maples and oaks and sycamores into a melted-down pool of last winter’s candles, string a garland for the mantel. I launder the flannel sheets, ready the spiced cider pouches. We intend to write down the first frost on our calendar, but
The weather turned quickly after unseasonable warmth, and last year’s burgeoning woodpile beckoned an early burn. So we burned. Morning fires on repeat, three times over, until the wax preserve drips clean from a child’s leaf garland. A wonderful mess, scraping beeswax from brick. We resign to flameless candles until leaves are swapped for winter
Finally: puzzle season. Candied pecans on the stove, Bing Crosby on the speakers. This is the time of year in which we all share excitement over something. For some, it’s sterile snow falling in sheets. Others, a warm, glistening tree and a tower of packages. Still others, your grandmother’s eggnog recipe. Me? Jigsaw puzzles.
Early this week, Bee fell ill with inexplicable fevers, midnight shrieking she couldn’t shake. Doctor’s visits, a 911 call. Night terrors, it was diagnosed. Common for her age, it was said. Our instructions: cold compresses to the forehead, a tepid bath, fluids. While water seems a small attempt to rush the wild vacancy from her
Of all the raised eyebrows we garnered from our former HGTV.com show, the DIY sauna brought forth the most questions, hands down. Where’d you put it? How big is it? How does it work? And mostly: Why on earth?