my mom grew up on a farm in amish country, her childhood skimming against a backdrop of chickens and sun-fed corn. and then it was bible college and falling for my dad hard enough to transplant the meaning of home to the bluest spread of the pacific.
she likes it there, i think, the slow baked rhythm of island life. but come october, i'll dial her voice soft over 4.5 thousand miles and she'll ask if the leaves are turning.
so mom, these tree shots are for you. (and, okay, a little bit for me.) i had to run out and snap like a mad hatter this past week; autumn is hitting quick and already the ashes out front are slipping clean.
when fall sweeps in, my menu planning is eighty percent soups and slow cooker goodness. i am ofCOURSE making this fellow again, but i'm hoping for some simple, hearty crockpot soup recipes. what makes you happy by the bowlful on a chilled october evening?
and while i'm in the asking mood, fellow seamstresses: what's your go-to longish skirt pattern? i'll need a small supply of those guys when i'm out-and-about in eastern africa, and i do still have that friendly fabric stash just waiting to hop up and become something.
hope your weekends are the best kind, full of flaming trees and bluster.
ps this weekend is homecoming 'round these here parts, which reeled up all sorts of fantastical memories. behold the helmet-haired glory of 1990:
high school, you are so much funnier in hindsight. :)