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I am roasting pumpkin seeds in the oven. There are a ridiculous number of them, really (though I did only use half of those available!). Three baking sheets full of these tiny, flat, pale seeds that will go unseeded, becoming snacks for the co-workers who begged me to save them.  I don’t even like pumpkin seeds: it feels like I am chewing on a wooden skewer every time I pop one in my mouth. But they are in the oven anyways, an act of love, I suppose. Spicy, cheesy, and sweet. Each flavour a metaphor for the one from whom the request was made. Beautiful really.

A week ago today I turned 25. The age of feeling like an adult and needing some change in order to help the feeling be genuine. I had a wonderful birthday to usher in a new phase of my life, full of celebration, love, and joy. So far 25 has been lovely and I venture forward with confidence and excitement.

And I guess that is all I have to say unless you would like to read yet another post about my undying love for autumn in all its deadly beauty. Believe me…I could wax poetic on this subject for ages and probably will.



a customer at work told me that her most hated errand was grocery shopping. i didn’t even know that was possible…
it’s usually one of the best parts of my week.

My morning was consumed by school work. Two-hundred pages read, six pages of notes, and three hours later I was ready for a break. Gary lovingly agreed, though I suspect his motives were steeped in a desire to have my pen as a play-toy. So, in reward for my hard work, I ate lunch over a copy of Martha Stewarts Cupcakes- a book that is a beautiful as it is informative. Afterall, tomorrow is my dear husband’s 29th birthday and what is a birthday without some kind of cake.  I assessed all my options and narrowed it down to three: applesauce cream-cheese cupcakes, chai-infused cupcakes with honey, or triple citrus glazed cupcakes. I didn’t want to fuss with cream cheese, and the chai was a odd-sounding recipe overall, so I eventually picked the citrus ones. We had everything in the house to make these lovely little treats with the exception of the lemons and limes, but I, after havign been in the house all day pining for the sunshine, was happy to drive the 30 minutes to the nearest grocery store.

When I jumped into my mother-in-law’s car the radio was set to a familiar station: one that, for all intents and purposes, is Christian, but they claim to simply be playing positive family-friendly music. Before I could even get off the Island, a familiar song began to play. As the chords and words of How He Loves by David Crowder Band, I felt something stir up inside of me.  So there I was, driving down the road at 55 miles an hour (forgive me for the lack of metric, but I am trying to learn imperial to fit in) with a memory of this song that I couldn’t identify. I felt a great weight, sensing the memory involved a large group of people and a great deal of personal honesty.

I thought about it all the rest of the way to the grocery store, in the grocery store as I picked my citrus, on the ride back over the sound of other music, and all through the making of those citrus cupcakes. I still have this looming sense of a lost memory as I prepare to ice those cupcakes and then return to my homework. It bothers me on a level that is difficult to explain- it is almost like mourning because the sense of the memory feels significant but the memory itself is gone.


a tea for everything

More Pictures

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