I never cease to marvel at how seamlessly you knit your mother’s stories into your own and how timeless, relevant and delicious they are. Enjoy those last drops of Maine summer, Amie—I only wish I was there to enjoy them too!💕
I’ll think of you and your mom this winter when I make ice tea and blueberry pie. I’ll stoke the woodstove, put on shorts and The Beach Boys, and pretend.
I love this essay! It reminded me of my mom’s sun tea, which she’d make well into September. She suffers from Alzheimer’s now, and I wonder if making the sun tea for her would stir up any food/drink memories for her.
Ahhh beautiful. As a Brit I have rarely deviled an egg but I'm planning to do so now in December. Love from a seriously rainy and autumnal day here on the South Coast of England. It's raining cats and dogs.
Glad you had a chance for some time off. Yes Labor Day has come and gone but I still had potato salad at dinner last night. Here’s to wearing white all year long.
Love that you are questioning the season laws. I still can’t even contemplate wearing white trousers all winter long (even in CA) cause of my mother’s warnings!
What a beautiful read, each word rolling off my brain gathering steam to this remarkable bit, "In this curious season somewhere between summer and fall, the once-vibrant meadows begin their slow transition to muted goldenrods. Out back, a few enthusiastic red leaves pepper the treetops. Storm doors are weeks, not months, away. Mornings require running tights and afternoons, a dive in the cove. The air is laden with the cool breath of departures: a bittersweet reminder of another summer, gone." Beyond brilliant poetry. I was transported to Maine conjoined with all my summer - fall memories. 🍁
I never cease to marvel at how seamlessly you knit your mother’s stories into your own and how timeless, relevant and delicious they are. Enjoy those last drops of Maine summer, Amie—I only wish I was there to enjoy them too!💕
Next year!!
Yesssss!!!!!
I’ll think of you and your mom this winter when I make ice tea and blueberry pie. I’ll stoke the woodstove, put on shorts and The Beach Boys, and pretend.
We’ll be with you in spirit!
As I was reading, I thought it was you writing, towards the end , I realized it was your Mom. Perfect description of the fall feels!
We share a voice , I think!
I love rereading Karyl’s Newsletter. It brings back so many memories. So glad you are doing this. Missed seeing you at camp. 💝
So weird without you there, mom!
I love this essay! It reminded me of my mom’s sun tea, which she’d make well into September. She suffers from Alzheimer’s now, and I wonder if making the sun tea for her would stir up any food/drink memories for her.
Maybe with some fresh mint to stimulate the senses? Savor every moment together 💜
Thank you 💜
i think i made it under the wire of the 39 days of august ~ what a gift 💕
I’m extending it
A lovely poetic post, from both mother and daughter. The name of the pasta recipe, too.
no fancy pasta recipes at camp !!
Ahhh beautiful. As a Brit I have rarely deviled an egg but I'm planning to do so now in December. Love from a seriously rainy and autumnal day here on the South Coast of England. It's raining cats and dogs.
My “secret” recipe ingredient in deviled eggs: a bit of sweet relish
Charming!
This is so lovely, Amie! Makes me want to make iced tea today!
What a lovely piece. Linguine happening soon since I have too much basil. I know, First World Problem 💙
Trade you sage from my garden for your basil…
Glad you had a chance for some time off. Yes Labor Day has come and gone but I still had potato salad at dinner last night. Here’s to wearing white all year long.
lol we scoff at the rules!
Love that you are questioning the season laws. I still can’t even contemplate wearing white trousers all winter long (even in CA) cause of my mother’s warnings!
What a beautiful read, each word rolling off my brain gathering steam to this remarkable bit, "In this curious season somewhere between summer and fall, the once-vibrant meadows begin their slow transition to muted goldenrods. Out back, a few enthusiastic red leaves pepper the treetops. Storm doors are weeks, not months, away. Mornings require running tights and afternoons, a dive in the cove. The air is laden with the cool breath of departures: a bittersweet reminder of another summer, gone." Beyond brilliant poetry. I was transported to Maine conjoined with all my summer - fall memories. 🍁