recipe

18 posts
Back to Basics (Grilled Caprese Sandwiches)

I sent my baby to kindergarten this year, and I didn't shed a single tear. I dropped my son off to fend for himself, and nothing but eager anticipation left the building with me.  That's quite impressive for someone like me. Even the simplest, most expected changes have been known to throw me into a full-on sob fest. (Think night-before-the-new-semester break down in college. Every time.) I like routine. I...

2 1
Something New: Seasons in Mothering (and a recipe to keep kids home)

To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring. ~George Santayana "Fall’s coming." My man-child climbs into the passenger seat next to me for after-school pick up, announces this with a wide smile. He doesn’t even say hello. "I went outside to warm up this morning because I was cold and it was colder outside!" I don’t respond...

5 2
Finding Your Welcome Again And How Tomato Soup Can Heal

We spent the summer mostly by the pool. Those plastic loungers acted as a cradle of respite for me, a safe, uninterruptible space for me to wrestle with my angst related to community and a wound that oozed far longer than seemed reasonable. I was near militant about our pool going. Mostly, the kids were on board, but even on days when they turned their toes in and sighed, again?!...

6 2
Finding Home and Love in Spaghetti Bolognese

There are stories we tell over and over because we never want to forget. This is one of them.  Eight years ago I wandered around the streets of Geneva, Switzerland in February. My coat was good for an Australian winter, but I froze in the northern hemisphere's chilly days. I was only there for two weeks as part of a year when I traveled around the world. I started in...

6 2
The Joy of Remaining and Watermelon

This summer has been marked by rhythms which are a bit off beat. Perhaps they are syncopated, mostly beautiful, but different. As women we establish routines and traditions, often following the seasons and the calendar as we make our life within our family and home. Our old normal, the paradigm we grew accustomed to when our children were young was one of embracing summer, racing headlong into the three month...

5 3
Rest and Ratatouille

In summer, metaphors are as plentiful as buzzing bees. Here is one with its nose buried in a hollyhock. Here are half a dozen more darting among the clover. Summer is a gradual unspooling, and I see the picture of it everywhere: rosebuds unfurling, pea vines and morning glories curling and uncurling. Summer is for slowly, but surely, unclenching our fists, letting our hurried shoulders drop, and leaning in toward...

9 4
Signs of Life: on Play, Beauty, and Rest

Rest requires that we be who we are and nothing else. A life built upon Sabbath is content because in rhythms of rest we discover our time is full of the holiness of God. ~Shelly Miller, Rhythms of Rest If May almost did me in, June was trying to finish me off. Our family schedule had been a spanking, and I was still unsure of what all we had done...

7 0
Manna in the Desert

I stand in the shower and let the hot water soak into my hair and run over my ears. The rest of the world gets muffled, and I find the quiet and space I long for there. No one is climbing me, touching me, needing me, calling me over and over again. I inhale the steam and exhale the weight off my shoulders, and I will the 5 minutes of...

10 3
Winter Party with Grain-free Chocolate Cupcakes

A winter party is one of my favorite ways to remind me to keep celebrating life. This was true as a fourth grader too. My golden blonde hair lay straight falling in my face. Sweeping it back to focus on weaving the purple & pink construction paper for my Valentine heart envelope to receive the next day’s Valentines.    My nine year old heart knew nothing of the 16 year...

6 2
In the Habit of Hospitality

I am allergic to goals and averse to resolutions. I love to dream, but I prefer my dreams in rosy shades of vague. Details and action plans make me tired. Oh, January. Oh, month of optimism and ambition. I love you. But I do not trust you. * Or, perhaps, I do not trust myself. For though I am no setter of goals, I, too, long to turn over that...

8 2
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