Friday, August 20, 2010


The flies came with the rain.
I lie on the couch, reading.
They are at my mouth and ankles
and the bend of my arm -
places of thin skin.

Above my wrist, its blue veins,
they cross the bridge of my fingers.
I wave my hand over the book.
The dog snaps at them
in her sleep.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Aaron says these things that make me smile

"We're not poor. We just don't have a lot of money."

"What would you like for dinner?"

"You're my little furnace. You're my toasty girl." (I exude an incredible amount of heat when I sleep - I'm better than an electric blanket.)

Friday, August 6, 2010

Picking Tomatoes

This, dear friends, is a Green Giant tomato, and it's one of my favorites. I know you won't believe me, but it smells like BLTs. I can press my nose against it and pick up not only the sweet scent of tomato, but also mayonnaise and peppery bacon. It is truly amazing.

A few days ago, while making a tomato salad for dinner, I bit into a Black Cherry tomato, sighed happily, and was about to tell my mom that if I ever lived in a place where I only had room for one tomato plant, that would be it. But it came out like this: "If I could only grow one kind of tomato, well, no, if I could only grow two kinds of tomatoes, no, if I could only grow three kinds of tomatoes..."

I have since come to the conclusion that I will always need to live in a place where I can grow at least four kinds of tomatoes: a Black Cherry for snacking and salads, a Flamme for oven-roasting, a Speckled Roman for sauces, and a Green Giant for sandwiches.

There's a reason they call tomatoes like the Green Giant beefsteaks, and here it is:

In my opinion, anything that I can pick from its vine, sniff happily, and put on toast is a very good thing.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Have a Seat

because I'm about to show you something pretty cute:
This is a keet, or baby guinea. I have thirteen others, and yesterday was so hot that they stayed out on the porch, no heat lamp necessary.

I hope they'll grow up and become tick-eating machines. They also promise to be better guard dogs than our two canines. Hannah, more often than not, is caught by surprise during a nap and lets out a couple of barks after the fact to try to cover her embarrassment.

Even without their loud "buckwheat" call, I think they'll stand out. The cuteness factor won't last, and while their feathers are beautiful, guinea fowl heads are fantastic and decidedly strange:

Tuesday, August 3, 2010


On Sunday, Aaron and I celebrated our 1-year anniversary. One year!

After at week at a family reunion at Gull Lake, near Brainerd, we headed east and spent the weekend in Duluth.

We walked through Canal Park and watched the lift bridge. Completely by accident, we made our reservations in Duluth during the Tall Ship Festival.

We waded into Lake Superior. It's apparent just from dipping your toes in that the lake is experiencing record high temperatures (15 degrees above normal) - the water felt no colder than Gull Lake.

On Sunday, we decided to hike a short distance on the Superior Hiking Trail along the hills overlooking the lake. We crossed Coffee Creek.

We hiked past an abandoned park, an old apple tree, and views of the harbor. It was muggy and hot, but also wonderful.

Happy anniversary, honey.

Dear Aaron,

When I look back on our wedding day, I remember this: you squeezing my fingers as we stood facing each other, your thumb stroking the edge of my hand.

Your Grandma Jane told us last week that it's said that the first year of marriage is the hardest. That can't be true. Certainly we had a bit of a rough start as we learned how to deal with, and share, our first grown-up responsibilities. Those first few months were hard, we agree, but what I find amazing is how we helped each other grow, and how, as we strove to better our relationship, we bettered ourselves and each other.

Now things are simply, and in every sense of the word, good. When, one year ago, I cried as I read my vows, I could not have imagined how much my love for you would grow. It's grown with every meal we've cooked together, every walk we've taken, every story we've shared. It's grown every time we've argued and reached the other side, it's grown with every bit of laughter.

I can't explain how much comfort and love I feel in our marriage. I know that, no matter what, you have my back. I hope you know that I have yours, too.

When I look ahead, I see so many adventures waiting for us. I can't wait to share them with you.


Gull Lake

What I want to remember:

The wind that filled my mouth during boat rides.

Sitting with Aaron and his brothers at the end of the dock - talking, sharing a cigar, and watching the moon pass over the lake.

The burnt-orange moon, and how quickly it came up over the horizon.

A little girl with blond pigtails straddling a skateboard and propelling herself along with her feet.

The loon that surfaced near the shore, and flapped its wings to smooth them. Their calls, which I think are one of the most beautiful sounds on earth.

Laughing as we used bed sheets to toss a water balloon back and forth over the tennis nets.

Aaron and I sitting at the end of the dock, dipping our feet in the water while I read aloud from The Commitment.

Turning off the lights in the cabin and sipping a whiskey ginger while we watched a thunderstorm.