Dear Mom.

There is nothing I can say today that I haven't already said over the years. The days get easier as time moves on. We are slowly healing from the wounds that were left after you were gone...but those deep wounds and holes of emptiness get filled with things that aren't real.

The days still come. Swiftly at first. And then less so. But they come whether we want them to or not, whether we expect them or not. We just know how to navigate through the choppy waters a little better now.

Every day I miss something about you...both of you. I can't express in words what it's like to live on a planet without you. Suddenly, I am aware of being exposed and completely alone - naked on a boat in the middle of the ocean with no oars and no land in sight. It feels uncomfortable and so unfamiliar.

You look for ways to make it more comfortable...more tolerable. But soon you realize that nothing works to heal it. It just "is." You have to go through it now. You just have to paddle somehow with what you have and get to the other side.

I have been paddling for 9 years. Nine. That's a long time. But today, instead of resting, I will keep paddling. I will keep moving towards something...towards a shoreline of something bigger than me. And in it, I will try to enjoy the adventure. Embrace the unknown.  I will use everything you gave me and taught me and showed me and said to me as a compass...a guiding light to bring me home.

Chicken Soup

Chicken noodle soup.

A few weeks ago after a downright summery few days, the temperature here bottomed out and dropped a good 25 degrees. While I welcome the cooler weather (we have enough heat here in Charleston), that dip in temperature felt downright arctic...so comfort food is coming my way.

To me, there is no other way to combat the cooler temps than with some much needed homemade chicken noodle soup with a loaf of something crusty alongside. I was lazy and didn't want to run to the store, I decided to whip it up with what I had on hand - which turned out in my favor. If you ever make noodle soup from dried noodles again, kick yourself. Refrigerated noodles are the way to go and because my child is a super spoiled foodie and WILL ONLY EAT THESE EXPENSIVE NOODLES, I keep them stocked in my freezer.

It's the most simple food and since there is still a touch of chill in the air, I will probably be making this again this week because we ATE IT ALL IN ONE SITTING. It was that good. 

I don't have a recipe because I am HORRIBLE at measuring and recording it. But here is a link to something similar.

Foraging

Foraging from our backyard loquat tree

He's cooperating, but very unsure.

I spent my summers slightly sunburned, running around outside in the fresh air, chasing fireflies, and picking perfectly ripened blackberries for my mom behind the watertower at the top of the mountain. We never heard the word foraging. We just did it. I lived in a neighborhood edged with forests and farms, so foraging for wild berries and wildly growing culinary treats just sort of happened.

When we moved to the south during my teen years, everything was different. We lived on a barrier island on the coast of South Carolina that looked more like a lush, tropical forest than the woodlands and farms I was used to. Everything looked exotic and exciting. And a little bit poisonous. And honestly, as a teen, I had better things to learn than what was yard berry was edible and what I should fear. So I stayed away from most things thinking I would suddenly die upon ingestion. 

As the years passed, I found myself longing for those blackberry bushes I foraged in my youth. For some reason, they seemed like a treasure that nobody knew about for years but us...like our own secret garden right up the road. It was a treat saved for a few short weeks every year. And although I loved eating the plump berries right off the bush, my pudgy fingers stained purple from their juices, I was always excited to bring them home to my mom to see what magic she would make with them - cobbler, pie, preserves. It was the stuff dreams were made of. 

Somehow this unfamiliar territory made foraged foods seem harder to come by in South Carolina. But as I learned more about the culinary south, I realized there was a whole slew of foods at my disposal right here in my own backyard. I moved into my current house about 11 years ago. On that day, I noticed a bush dripping with what looked like tiny apricots against a backdrop of fuchsia azalea blooms . Golden yellow in color, I had seen these bushes around the south for years. Little did I know I had a loquat tree right in my own back yard. The very start to my own little backyard farm.

This year is my first year harvesting these babies. They are tart and juicy and have a great texture - sort of peachy. So we will be experimenting with drinks, preserves, foods and maybe even a desert or 2 over the next few weeks before our quickly ripening bush goes to the hungry wildlife of the neighborhood.

I can hardly wait to see what goodness comes out of it all!

EAT YOUR GREENS

EAT YOUR GREENS!!!!

(I guess he listened.)

In other news - this guy is the greatest!

Give Thanks. Show Gratitude.

This is the season of gratitude. It's a celebration of all the things we have in our lives to be grateful for - big and small, bad and good, easy and difficult. 

As much as I try to show and celebrate thankfulness and gratitude every day, I count Thanksgiving week as the reset on this essential part of living a whole and fulfilling life. It's a good time to sit back and reflect on all the things that have happened, regardless of their nature - both bad and good, happy and sad. It's like an emotional hip-check on thankfulness and a gentle reminder that things we have to be grateful for come in all different shapes and sizes.

This sweet pause this week is something I don't take for granted as we swiftly slide into the season of abundance and love. I think Thanksgiving fits nicely with the the coming Holidays, becoming a reminder to not give without love or receive without gratitude.

So today I give thanks, for all the things in my life - the lessons, the life and the love. I am thankful for family and friends, the work I get to do, and the life I get to live. It's all part of what makes me who I am and all part of what has put me on the path to what I want to do with this one sweet life.

And to all of you who support, love and motivate me in all parts of my life...Thank you. I am forever grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Soggy

Looking forward to drying out after these past few days. My yard is still under water and doesn't look great, but we are much better off than most folks in this city and state. My heart aches for those in Columbia. There is some serious flooding there. People are in real crisis all over the state.

This storm has reminded me of the fragile balance of life. We are at the mercy of so many things that even in the most solid circumstances, life as we know it could be ripped from our reality to something much worse.

I was lucky this time. Really lucky. And that's not something I take for granted. But at the same time, I am certain that things could change drastically for me somewhere else at any given moment. War. Financial ruin. Death. Natural Disaster. These are all things that can change the course of our lives in an instant. And no amount of planning, money or control can stop it.

So today, I move forward humbly with grace, gratitude and hope for some sunnier days ahead. For all of us.

Support Staff

Our cat, Fez (or Mrs. Fezziwig if we are being formal) has taken up residence on my desk for her daytime naps now (mmmhmmmm...it's super convenient). I am not gonna lie. I feel a little hijacked by her constant watch and grooming schedule. She keeps one eye and 2 ears on me all day - sleeping while I type, napping while I design, watching while I edit photos or write. If I get up, she is very aware of my movements. She seems intent on being close, which make me wonder what is happening in that tiny body. Is it her advanced age that makes her need to be near me? Is it her way of making peace with me for peeing on my curtains? Or is it her way of making sure no food opportunity gets by her? Regardless, she is staying uncomfortably close these days.

I am fascinated by what brings creatures the comfort they seek. As I type, my Golden Retriever sits a yard away. The cat is sleeping peacefully by my left hand. Our black mix dog, Sasha, sits by my right foot. None of the spots look particularly comfortable. But they are all within immediate view of me. I am their person. I bring them food, water, access to the Great Outdoors, adventure, treats and everything in between. They seem to love being as close as possible at most times of the day.

I supposed I get the same comfort from them, too. I listen to them sigh, pat them on the head as I walk by them, and offer them words of kindness and praise when I can. Maybe, in a way, I am offering this to myself as much as anyone. Could it be that it's me who is getting the comfort from them while they diligently do their jobs keeping watch? Perhaps they know my needs more than I really do.

So I guess it's not so bad after all having a napper at my left and two on my right throughout the long days at my desk. It's probably what I needed all this time to get through these longer days - a little extra encouragement and a little more love to make it through editing, designing, writing and facebooking  with a little extra support by my side.

Time for Summer

Time to sleep in and catch up. Time to stay up late and sleep in even later. Time to soak up the sunshine, let the wind blow our wild hair and smell the salty air for a few minutes more.

Time to read a book, eat some ice cream, watch a movie, and sleep in later than I should. Time for more sunsets on the beach with wine and warm water, laughter and love. Time for doing a little bit of nothing and a lot of everything.

Time for rest.

It's time for Summer.

Whispers of Summer

Summer is on the way. She is whispering to us in the first blooms of the season. She is calling gently through her longer, lingering days. She is beckoning us with raising temperatures and promises of beaches and sand and salty, sun bleached hair.

Oh summer, you are coming back again....with your bounty and blooms and sun-kissed cheeks and everything that is good about you. I can hardly wait to float around in your wake right now.

Hurry up summer. We are waiting.

Inner peas.

I have often talked about the joys of my simple attempts at starting a garden. They go far beyond nutrition and digging in the dirt. They seem almost spiritual and tie my love of all things food and farms into my own little homegrown version of gratitude. Each moment around my little raised bed yields some peace in my heart. And I have been aware for most of my life that I wanted some form of massive garden and to work with my hand in the dirt. I was always messy. I was always wandering around my friend's back yard gardens. But lately, the pull has been much greater.

When I harvest my little pea crop from the vines elegantly curling and reaching up to the sky, I am always reminded at the joy of simply growing something you can eat every day right in your own backyard. With pretty minimal effort and not much time, I am yielding a handful of peas to enhance our humble home cooked meals. This is my first experience with peas, but I  already know these little green guys are going to be put into a regular crop rotation. These peas are full and plump and as sweet as the sunshine that helped them grow. They taste like Mother Nature's candy. And the reward of picking them straight from the vine in my yard is beyond measure for me.

So for now, I will plan on my next crop of peas or carrots or beets or Spinach. I will work with a bigger plan to expand what I am currently growing in my humble backyard raised bed. Maybe I'll even plan on a few chickens to wander around back here. whatever the path, I am excited to get my hands dirty again doing it all.  And I am happy to find a little inner peace through peas.

Just as it should be

Just two 12 year old boys, doing 12 year old boy things.

I think we put a lot of pressure on kids these days. It seems to come from all directions too. There is pressure to get good grades, be great athletes, have loads of interests beyond the ordinary kids things, and be responsibly on their path to adulthood. It seems like we expect a great deal from them and leave little wiggle room for error from these learning, growing bodies and minds. They are expected to know so much at the young age of 12 and be able to self-regulate more than I ever remember doing at that age.

I have a very easy going boy who hasn't been hard to parent over these past 12 years. He hasn't needed much punishment. He follows most rules (I mean...he's 12...so, we are bound to break a few). And for the most part, he does what he is supposed to do.

When he has a misstep, I usually become overly frustrated with him. It's so out of character that I tend to probably react beyond what I should. I think this is in part to his easy nature coupled with the fact that he is physically larger than most children his age (he looks me eye to eye now and we haven't even started the real growing yet). I am always quick to assume he is beyond his years because of this, and as a result, typically forget in the moment that he is, after all, still just 12.

Twelve is a precarious age. His body is growing faster that you can say "GROWTH SPURT." But his mind is often still stuck in that little boy age - the age of nerf wars and yu-gi-oh card games. This age is a walking contradiction. The moodiness and boundary pushing are all part of the net result of the contrast between their growing bodies and their still underdeveloped little minds. Sure, hormones play a role in this, but I think this contrast and internal struggle are as much to blame for those epic moods I have been seeing these days.

While I am so excited to see what the world has to offer Graham and what Graham has to offer the world, I really still enjoy these moments that he is just a regular, ordinary, twelve year old boy - playing video games, making little inventions and having nerf wars with his buddies in the neighborhood.  I treasure this sweet time with him and never take these small moments for granted. There is a whole lifetime ahead of him to meet deadlines and worry about the future that I am happy to take that burden away from him for a little while. Don't get me wrong...I still am helping him become a responsible person - we meet school deadlines and requirements, have a black belt in karate and chores he tends to around the house. I just think for a while that he needs to just be here in this space.

Homegrown

Each week, my share from Compost in my Shoe comes and I am always floored. The beauty. The care. The love that goes into these plants... it's remarkable. I have talked tirelessly about it recently. Shamelessly and tirelessly.

While I am a huge advocate from getting your food locally from people you know, I am also a huge advocate for growing your own stuff. This is not only good for you, it's good for the planet too! Pretty much everybody wins.

This is part of the share from this week. It smells DIVINE. I pull off this stock of herbs all week - putting them on fresh fish, in veggies, and in salad dressings. What doesn't get used up there gets tossed in a pot and turned into fresh juice or stock - vegetable or chicken. It turns into something we can use later. But it never, ever gets wasted.

I can't stress enough how happy I am that this is part of our life : fresh food, straight from the earth. If we get it from someone or if we get it from our yard. It's homegrown...with love...with purpose...with a mission.

He is back.

He's back.

Gone for 5 days and what felt like an eternity on a school trip to Washington D.C., my little man is back - safe and sound. Sleeping well and just as ornery and surly as he ever was.

I wouldn't trade it for the world. The sass. The drama. The tween attitude. I really wouldn't. I am so happy for all of it here at home...sleeping soundly in bed with heavy covers over him and a battle of the wills from the moment he wakes up these days. He is safe. And he is home. And he is with me. And I couldn't ask for more.

You see, just before this trip, Graham lost a classmate unexpectedly. She was only 13 years old - far too soon to be gone. Far too soon for her parents to bury her in the ground already. We are all mourning this loss and her absence. It is a tragedy I cannot even imagine...a parent's worst nightmare altogether.

So when I say I don't mind the sass and the drama - I am not kidding. I am thinking of Lucy - her parents and her family and her classmates. I don't care about laundry or stinky feet or someone climbing in bed with me at 3 AM because they don't feel good. I don't care about the hardships that come with tweens or the struggles ahead with teenage drinking or bad grades or whatever our story may be. I don't really care about anything but this foot in my bed - safe, happy, loved, here.

So I am glad. He is back. He is here with us today. And that is something I will never take for granted.

Happy 10 Years.

Today has been 10 years that I have been in this home. Ten whole years. It's the longest I have lived in one home since I have been on my own.

When I originally stumbled across this place 10 years ago, I fell in love. But like many of the homes at the bubble of the housing boom in America, it had already had an offer on it. I came into the house feeling completely defeated and worn out. Because this place FELT like home to me. The huge, grassy yard. The quaint, white picket fences. The sweet, cottage feel. It suited everything about me at that time. Nothing needed any real work. A few light fixtures and perhaps a new coat of paint. That was all I really wanted. And it was right here, waiting for me.

Obviously, it all worked out in my favor. The other offer fell through. I eventually came up with a figure they could live with and we were finally on our way to a settled life rooted down in a great city.

I haven't changed much about these 2100 square feet all in the 10 years I have lived here. My furniture still sits in virtually the same spots as when I moved here 10 years ago. My kitchen is still painted the same sage color with the same Lowe's cabinets as the day I signed the paperwork declaring that this place was mine. But even though this place and it's contents haven't changed much, there has been a lot of changes around me. My mother, who we swiftly pulled up the 2 steps into my home in her cumbersome wheelchair, is now gone. So is my father, who helped me hang the dining room light fixture and slept in my guest room for a few months after my mother passed away. My sister – who visited me for a few weeks after my father passed away - just died last year. I have a few grey hairs and some more pounds to speak of. And my sweet little boy has grown from a little toddler to a full blown teenager - sass and all.

I suppose I haven't changed much about my home for this very reason. So much else has changed...that the sweet, calming, grounding sense I get from my home is perfect for me. I love coming home to the predictability of my outdated kitchen, my comfortable furniture and my familiarly hued walls.

I feel the need to thank my humble home for it's support and love over the years. It has comforted me and calmed me after long days and sad events. It's has supported me and protected me from harsh weather and storms. It has cradled me to sleep and held me through some tough economic times as a self-employed single mom who is just trying to make her way in this world.

I often have said "I just want to keep us in our home." Instead, what I realize is this home has been keeping me all these years.

Happy 10 years, Little Home. I can't wait to see what the next 10 bring us.

The Rebirth of Spring.

By now, you may have figured out some of my favorite things are A) spring; B) flowers; C) all things spring; D) and some food.

It's true. And this time of year, I am quite shameless about my posts of flowers and sprouts and sunshine and weather.

I can't stop myself from feeling inspired at this time of year. And I usually ride the wave. While I do love winter and all it's bleak, sleepy, cocooning glory, I seem to embrace the energy of spring the most. The possibilities seem endless and inspiration is everywhere.

We are approaching my most favorite week of all - Easter week. While we are getting ready for an egg hunt - complete with plastic eggs and far too much chocolate- Spring awaits. The concept of Spring and Rebirth is embodied in this very holiday. The chance of refreshing and renewing one's life lies in every bloom, in every egg, in every little new life emerging right now. It seems to beg for us to rewrite those New Year's Resolutions into something we REALLY feel passion for.

Spring makes me feel rebirth is possible on every front. It makes me ready to embrace change once again. It makes me want to push through all the blocks and set my dreams free - like chicks from the egg...ready to fly away at any moment.

Baby Basil

Grow, little babies. G R  O   W  

Stretch your baby arms up to the big blue sky.

Drink in the water and the rain and the sun.

And stretch high... higher than you ever thought possible.

With all the hope of being in my belly in a few short weeks.

Grow, baby basil. GROW!

Discipline

We have learned a lot around here these days on the topic of discipline. Not the "you are in trouble" kind. But the "get it done" kind of discipline. It's been a topic of conversation lately. I am no stickler for grades because I think we have an archaic system. Whose to say that grades are actually a measure of what you are learning. But we live in a system that doesn't want to change and seems to keep measuring our kids by the same standard we know doesn't work.

I digress.

When I noticed Graham's grades starting to slip, I decided to dig a little deeper. Turns out, my child has the same disorder most of the world suffers from - lack of discipline. His grades have been slipping because he lacks the discipline most 12 year old boys lack. He's distracted with hormones and friends and electronics and life. Because being 12 is actually harder than it looks.

So our work together these days is in getting the hard work done first...for both of us. I have to make the calls I don't want to or deal with the my looming and inevitable taxes. He has to read that extra chapter and study for those quizzes he knows are coming. In turn, I report to him about my struggles with work and he reports to me about his where his struggles are with school. End result: we both have a cheerleader and we both crossed crappy tasks off our lists of things to do.

I think kids need to learn early on that their struggles are real. However, I think they need to realize they aren't alone in them. I never knew my parents struggled. Or other kids. I think it's okay to tell them a little bit of that. Mostly, I think it's important for them to know they are not alone in their battles. They have support.

So we are learning a lot about discipline right now. And elbow grease. And grit. And hard, hard work. Sweaty work. Getting your hands dirty work. Not just here. But all over our lives. And the result is going to be the harvest he reaps come report card day.

And if it all works out, we just might celebrate with a little gelato!

Feeling Blue

It's not easy being this girl...can't you tell?

Someone has a case of the blues today. Rainy days and busy people make for sad puppy dogs around these parts. I have been working my fanny off and haven't had as much time for fun with her. Not as many walks or balls thrown. And she feels it. Can't you tell.

Don't worry Bella. I see a happy forecast in your future of ball throwing and beach time. And that's a promise I can keep.

This glorious day...

I hope you are enjoying this glorious day today - wherever you are. Sunshine abounds here, so I am going to get out in it.

And with that I bid you a happy Sunday...I am officially caught up on my blogging!

corners

I am a sucker for something that has been re-purposed and this little bar is no exception. This cabinet has been with me for a lot of years - over 20. It has seen a lot of different facets of my life and held onto many of my precious treasures. It has been in 6 homes and has been one of the most useful pieces I have ever had. It has simple, clean lines and is extremely functional. 

A few months ago, this piece was forest green. It has also been red and white. But I needed to find a new life for it. I have been eying bar carts and - being the trendy gal that I am (hahaha) - I decided that's exactly what this piece needed to be. It's extremely rustic and full of flaws (just like me!), but I love it. It fits neatly in my dining room and serves as my makeshift bar cart now. And every time I walk by it, it warms my little heart.

Sometimes all you need is a freshening up in the dusty corners to bring a spot of sunshine where it always needed to be.