Something about cooking. And laundry. And motherhood.

When in doubt, free-write, with a timer. And tonight, no proofreading, because there's just no time for that (and who cares, anyway?). Fifteen minutes; go. What I'm going to do, long after dinner but before going to bed tonight is this: I'm going to get the big Dutch oven from the cabinet, and I'm going … Continue reading Something about cooking. And laundry. And motherhood.

The solace of my mother’s kitchen: Part 1

The first kitchen I remember is the one on Agnes Place, the house, built in 1912, where we lived from my toddler years until I started first grade. I remember five very specific things about this kitchen. The first memory is visual: The window above the sink looked out onto the back yard, where we … Continue reading The solace of my mother’s kitchen: Part 1