In the almost spring

In the almost spring, winter coats and snow pants are left behind in a heapIMG_0385
sweatshirts litter the lawn.

I peer each day at the green shoots by the door.
Look! A snow drop. Tight this morning, opened wide in the afternoon.

I haunt the rhubarb patch looking for bulbous round red knobs,
precursors to wrinkled leaves growing, growing, growing . . .

I can’t play hooky so I sit on the porch and marvel
at the warmth—it’s still March.

A neighbor calls: “The bears! Headed your way!”
Watch from the porch as they waddle silently across the street.

In the almost spring, my kids dig worms, build forts
come in with brown knees smelling of dirt.

I breathe it in and smile.

What signs of (almost) spring did you find today?

Thoughts on Opening at the Close of the Year

The close of the year is an opening to a new one. The recently passed solstice, the turn of the calendar both call us to shift our cycles. What can you let go of? What will you embrace?

I intended to write about the light-dark /  ending-beginning of this month last week on solstice, but I felt called instead to make space. I stepped away from the computer a lot. I read. I brought my hands into a warm ball of dough and baked bread. I breathed deep in the twinkling light of the tree and the flicker of the fire. I read some more.

With all the to-dos of this month behind me, but a little more celebration and family time to go, I’m sinking into the open space I deliberately created—no work in this interholiday week of school vacation.

2015 Year in Review

Back in January, I set open as my word of the year. Aside from this open space here at the end of the year, how else did I open?

I opened to new ideas about my work and ended up with this. I don’t know why I resisted change for so long, but I’m loving the ghostblogging/content management world I’m thriving in.

I opened my door each morning and stepped outside. I looked up at the trees and the sky. I counted crows, black spots against the blue. I found the lingering moon and noticed pink-gold streaks. I felt the ground firm but yielding beneath my feet. I opened my eyes to notice.

I opened up space in my schedule for writing that I felt called to do. I was consistent with it for a while. I need to step back and re-open that space.

I opened to hope, as I do each spring, and to being in the moment with my kids.

I opened to possibility, to figuring out how instead of saying I can’t. In the past, friends would post about trips they had taken and I’d wonder how they managed. Who watched their kids? How did they afford it? How did they find time in a schedule that seems always too full? But when an old college friend asked a small group of us to get together, I was open to making it happen—and I ended up soaking up the quiet and the deep conversations in Tucson.

I opened to adventure, the kind I haven’t had in years.

I opened to the fullness of my experience in December as I do each year—and got surprised.

I didn’t open my body with yoga like I intended (though I have a plan for next September when I have two kids in school full time).

I didn’t open up more space in my house the way I wanted to. Clearing out clutter has been a molasses slow process, and the open space I create seems to fill in almost immediately. I’m still working on that one. It’s a good goal for a new year.

The year is closing, but a new one opens. I’m thinking about what I want that year to feel like and staying open possibility.

What openings did you create last year? What openings do you see coming in the new year?

Make Your Own Fall Fun + Apple Muffins

“It’s no fair!”

We get a lot of that around here. This time, my big girl was disgruntled that the cooking class in the school enrichment program was only for bigger kids.

So we had our own cooking “class.” We invited some friends, and although we ended up with a smaller group than we hoped, we had fun with apples.

The kids peeled, cored, sliced, and grated apples. They measured sugar and spices in between playing with Legos. Then while things cooked, they became ninjas and butterflies. I’m pretty sure that didn’t happen in the regular cooking class.

Up next: Pumpkins

Easy Apple Muffins

2 medium apples
1 cup sugar
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. allspice
1 egg
1/2 cup oil
1 1/2 cup flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda

  1. Grate the apples into a mixing bowl. Pour sugar and spices over apples and let sit for 10 minutes.
  2. Preheat over to 350.
  3. Mix egg and oil into the apple/sugar/spice mixture.
  4. Add the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Mix to combine.
  5. Fill greased muffin pans and bake for 20–25 minutes. (Makes about 18-20 small muffins and 12 medium size ones.) Alternately pour the batter into a greased 8×8 cake pan and bake for 50–55 minutes.)

    I love fall foods and getting back into baking after a summer of using the oven less. I love cooking with my kids even when it’s messy or looks a lot more like dress up play. I love that they wanted to share this fun with friends.

What do you love?

Write What You Love is back. I hope you’ll join me.

Write What You Love—3 days to start writing and connect to what you love

The magic of old friends

Looking up from my book, I watched a humming bird buzz the pool. A bright orange dragonfly Morning view, Tucsondarted after it. I listened to the quiet, a different quiet from a morning at home. No dog snoring gently, no cars on the street outside. The pool filter hummed on and off. Birds swooped and called as they dashed from fence post to cactus.

Still on East Coast time, I woke early in Tucson. While my friends still slept, I sat out on the patio in the still cool morning sipping coffee, reading a bit, daydreaming. It was delightful. It was restorative. And it wasn’t the best part of the weekend.

As the sun rose higher and the temps soared, my friends came out one by one. A short run. Some yoga. Some lazing. We each did our own thing before breakfast. I made the omelet. Aimee started the bacon. Jen flipped pancakes. Heather and Jemma carried plates and silverware out to the shaded seats on the patio.

I met these women 21 years ago, give or take a couple of weeks, when luck put us in the same dorm during our first year of college. I saw two of these women briefly last year after a long hiatus, but the other two? It’s been nine years in one case, eleven in the other. And in all cases, it’s been no time. Old friends are like that.

We settled into conversations that were years of catching up without feeling like recap. We talked relationships and kids and work. We remembered who we were and figured out who we are.

I’ve been looking forward to this trip all summer, because I needed a break and I was excited to see these friends. I didn’t realize how much I needed to see them.

Being with old friends reconnected me to parts of myself that I had forgotten. I came back refreshed from a full night’s sleep and the quiet mornings by the pool. I came back refilled from the conversations poolside and around the dinner table. I came back refilled by laughter and hugs and knowing these people know me, the Sara I was 20+ years ago, the Sara I’ve been since, the Sara I am now.

Reconnect with an old friend today. Call them, message them, write them. Reconnect with an old friend and see what else you connect with.

How too many peas led to my new favorite ice cream

It’s a weird garden year. My green beans haven’t done much yet. My zucchini and summer squash are succumbing to powdery mildew, and I’m hoping the cucumbers don’t follow. I’m still waiting to see if my tomatoes will hang in there.

But my snap peas produced.

To use up a bunch earlier this month, I did a stir fry with beef and peas and garlic scapes and ginger. To finish it off, I added a heavy splash of coconut milk. That left about a cup of coconut milk.

I kept thinking coconut + chocolate = yum. Since it’s summer, ice cream was the obvious answer. I’ve since subjected my kids to the same stir fry (not their favorite) again both because I had a lot of peas and because I was craving another batch of this ice cream.

Chocolate-coconut Ice Cream

(makes about 5 cups)

½ cup milk
½ cup sugar (scant)
8 oz bittersweet chocolate chips or bar roughly chopped
1 cup coconut milk
1 cup 1/2 and 1/2 or light cream

  1. Pulse the chocolate and sugar in a food processor until chocolate is very small.
  2. Heat the milk in a small sauce pan until it just starts to bubble at the edges.
  3. Add hot milk to the chocolate-sugar mixture. Stir or run the food processor until chocolate melts and mixture is smooth. Pour into a 2-quart or larger mixing bowl. Chill. (I left it overnight, but you can chill for less time as long as it gets really cold.)
  4. Take the cold chocolate out. Try not to stand at the counter eating it all. (It’s really good, but the ice cream is too.) Stir the 1/2 and 1/2 or cream into the chocolate mixture.
  5. Pour into your ice cream maker, following instructions.
  6. My machine takes about 25 minutes. Transfer the ice cream to a covered container and let set for about 2 hours—or eat right away. This one’s really good in it’s soft stage.


Pride and green coriander

Waiting for green coriander—and keeping the pollinators happy

Waiting for green coriander—and keeping the pollinators happy

Tick Tick  Ticktickticktick

A cluster of tiny green seeds rolls through my fingers into a plastic bowl.

“I think everyone really loves my green coriander pesto,” my big girl says as she strips seeds from the plants I’ve pulled. “Well, except for some of the kids. Because they’re picky.”

She’s been anticipating this moment since early spring when I began finding cilantro everywhere. We noticed the plants getting bigger and sending out feather, carrot-top like leaves. We watched bees buzz the tiny white flower clusters. And we found the first tiny green seeds. Now, some of the plants have gone from full flower to full seed.

To everything its season, and this is the season for green coriander.

Two years ago, I cooked with green coriander for the first time, making the green coriander–marinated chicken from Grow, Cook, Eat. Picking green coriander (and later the dried, brown seeds) became a summer afternoon activity with the kids asking if we could pull one more plant to strip. As long as everyone had their own plant and their own bowl, squabbles were minimal.

Last summer my big girl decided we should make pesto with the green coriander. We talked about the things that usually went into pesto and she picked what she wanted to put in. Here’s what she came up with:

K’s Green Coriander Pesto

1/2 cup green coriander (roughly seeds from 3–4 plants)
1 scant cup parsley leaves
1 clove garlic
1/4 cup chopped walnuts
1/2 cup olive oil
Two good squeezes of lemon juices
1/4 cup Parmesan cheese
1/4 cup Romano cheese

  1. Run the green coriander, parsley, garlic, and walnuts in a food processor until smooth-ish. (The green coriander will still be a little pebbly, but all the seeds should be somewhat ground up.)
  2. Add the olive oil and lemon and whiz to combine.
  3. Stir in the cheeses.
  4. Taste and add more lemon juice or oil if needed.

This has a crunchier texture than most pesto. We love it on chicken and crackers. We’re less fond of it on pasta. I imagine that the bright green, citrusy flavor would be good with fish or shrimp.


My big girl was so excited to bring green coriander pesto chicken to a pot luck last night. If rosemary is the smell of jealousy, maybe green coriander is the smell of pride.

What are you creating with summer’s bounty these days?