Opposites Attract

It is this time of the summer when I begin to feel ready for the winter. Last night, though not too hot, I still craved the breeze to cool, allowing my skin to roughen with goosebumps as the air washed over it like a wave. Only then can I slither into bed, blindly reach and grab all the layers below me, haul them up to my ear until all is quiet and I am a happy little bear in my den. Only then can I wake in the morning to the most marshmallow-y cloud above and below, squishing my skeleton just enough to make me feel as though I am being hugged.

These are the days of tea. These are the times for fires. These are the periods of dark where all must find their own, inner light.

In short, these are the true times for grilled cheese.

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Belated Birthday

Celebrations are wonderful:

Excuses to be happy and hide the frowns away, at least that is what I like about them. Even if you aren’t actually in a good mood, you feel it and become engulfed to the point where your smiles turn real.

Though it is a few days late, I would like to share a recipe and some images from my family’s Fourth weekend. We met on Fishers Island, off the coast of New London, CT, to set off fireworks, eat, lounge, and motorboat.

The morning of the Fourth, my dad, brother, uncle and I went out to swim and ended up, as we have a lot in our past visits, clamming with our feet.

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Bread to Win

A base. A vehicle. A stand-alone wonder.

Homemade bread.

Or rather, your mom’s homemade bread. Refined day after day with constant altering, adjusting, and tasting.

You see, the kitchen of my childhood more often than not smelled of yeast, flour, molasses–warmth. You know that smell? The wave the moment after turning the cool knob and leaning in to the door–able to barrel through school, stress, new experiences and lost innocence weighing you down to make room for complete welcoming and accepting, with a hint of honey.

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Cherries: A History

When I was a wee-little-thing, I got sick, as all wee-little-things do. In order to fight the sniffle-y, cough-y colds doctors (and later, parents) would force a so-called ‘syrup’ upon me that, in fact, was not a ‘syrup’ in the way a young person thinks of ‘syrup’ at all.

This molasses-ey mixture kept in my parents’ bathroom cupboard came down from the shelf only to tears and tantrums. It’s reddish hue deceived me only before the first tasting, when it reminded me of a melted Watermelon Jolly Rancher (the best flavor, by the way, tying only sometimes with green apple).

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Sorry for slacking on posts recently!! School is crazy from now until May 24th (when I graduate!!! eek!) and I have found it hard to find time to even sleep this past week or two.

Anyways, lets get to the point since time is precious. I made granola as a thank you to several special people recently, and thought I would share the recipe (which is actually Marilyn Covey’s, found in this cookbook–I highly recommend it!)

A simple, but extremely delicious snack, breakfast, or addition to any meal!

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