Monday

A dentist appointment on a Monday morning at 8:00 AM. It’s as fun as it sounds.

Why do dentists always make you feel like a child who’s been caught doing something bad?

I go home and have a bowl of apple and blackberry crumble just to spite him.

Tuesday

Another afternoon at Starbucks with my new favorite chai latte.

I take a sip and have an instant flashback.

It takes me back to when Ger and I were living in San Francisco, where the changing seasons felt almost nonexistent. It was October, and I was desperate for even the smallest taste of autumn. I knew exactly where to go: the Williams Sonoma in Union Square.

The moment I walked through the doors, I was greeted by shelves of burnt-orange ceramic pumpkins and every autumnal delight imaginable, all while palm trees swayed outside. That day they were handing out samples of warm pumpkin spice bread.

It was everything I had been missing.

In that single bite, I finally felt like I’d found the autumn I’d been chasing.

I walked out knowing we belonged back East.

Wednesday

It’s just me, Henry, and the many neighborhood bunnies this morning. The half moon hangs directly above me, and the sky is brushed with soft pink and purple paint strokes. I love this time of day.

I pop on a podcast, and the guest is Nigella Lawson. God, I wish I was as sexy in the kitchen as she is.

Henry and I walk through the little path that connects us to the next neighborhood, and suddenly the sky opens up. The clouds are perfectly positioned, as though they’ve turned into sunbeams.

I turn the corner and see a deer standing in someone’s garden. (I’m hoping Henry doesn’t notice.)

When I return home, I water the garden. The willow bush I was worried about seems to be just about surviving. All of the squash blossoms are open for business.

I stick my nose into one and find two bees inside. I feel as though I’m interrupting something, so I decide to move on quickly.

Thursday

Woke up deciding I needed a haircut right away, as per usual. I made an appointment for 10 AM. Received confirmation that it had moved to 11 AM. No problem.

I show up, the door is locked, and the lights are out. I wait on the bench outside for someone to show up. Five minutes later, I check the confirmation email again.

Ahh. 11 AM tomorrow.

Since I still have some time left on my lunch hour, I decide to make chicken, leek, and potato soup for dinner with the leftovers from our Sunday roast. The chicken stock I made with the bones yesterday will be perfect for it.

I’ll serve it with an Ancient Grain Batard (never heard of it either) and a lovely cheese board with raw honey, sliced pears, a few spreads and jams, dried apricots, a few nuts, Manchego, and French Brie.

As I’m stirring the soup, I put on the kettle and pop the last tea bag from the box into my mug. I love the feeling of using up the box and opening a brand-new one.

The recipe for the soup calls for a bay leaf, but I doubt the bay leaf from 2014 is going to do much. Still, I put it in the pot anyway. Will this teach me to buy fresh bay leaves in the future? I doubt it.

Meanwhile, I hear Henry crunching on something in the living room. I hope it’s a stick he snuck in from outside, but it’s not. I try to wrestle James’s purple colored pencil from his mouth.

There is purple all over the couch, but I don’t have time to clean it up. I have to get back to the soup. The timer is beeping.

Some days you have hours on a Sunday to prepare a lovely meal, and other days you have 30 minutes between meetings.

C’est la vie.

The tea goes cold on the counter.

Friday

My phone reminds me it’s time to prune the lavender. With my snips, I gather a bunch and feel as though I’m no longer in Massachusetts, but in Provence. I just wish it wasn’t too early for a glass of rosé.

I have some extra time this morning, so I sit outside and have my breakfast. I notice a squirrel sitting perfectly still on a stump, like a statue. It only moves to scratch an itch, and then it scurries away.

It’s 10:45 AM and time to go for my haircut. I hope I have the right date this time.

I arrive and am warmly welcomed. A few inches off and I feel like a new woman. I needed to do something to help beat this heat.

After I’m out of the salon, I call my husband to see if he wants to meet at the pub for a celebratory drink for our 16th wedding anniversary. Along with our son, we have the place all to ourselves and reminisce about the spectacular champagne reception we had at the Cliff House Hotel in Ardmore, Ireland, on the terrace overlooking the sea.

Saturday

I dig out a huge clump of oregano to make room for the new raised bed. It grows like a weed, so I’m not worried about it. I am covered in dirt and sweat.

Our drill is so powerful that I know I could do some damage if I’m not careful. There are tools strewn across the ground: levels, shovels, a bag of screws. I always think a project will take less time than it actually does.

Three hours later, three of the six raised beds are officially put together and level.

Sunday

I’ve always been a very determined (and sometimes stubborn) person. It works out great when I’m working on a project because I know I’ll get it done.

I decide to take on the raised beds again this morning. I finish one and decide it’s time to stop.

This is where determination and stubbornness can get a little blurry. I know I could keep going. But I also know I’ll regret it later.

So I put down the drill.

Dinner tonight will be an easy one-pan meal of Italian chicken sausage, peppers, and potatoes.

Until our next cup of tea,

Abby

Monday

A trip to Six Flags. Not exactly my natural habitat, but it does make me feel like a good mom. Two teenage boys happy. One exhausted mom. Nothing a cup of tea and an episode of The Great British Bake Off can’t fix.

Tuesday

I can certainly tell who is the most popular girl in the garden: Ms. Anise Hyssop. At any given time, I see at least twenty bees dancing around her. Just as I begin counting, a monarch butterfly swoops by. This is exactly the type of day I needed after yesterday.

Wednesday

There's that feeling in the air that it could pour at any minute. It’s every gardener’s dream. I open all the windows and wait for the first drop.

The birds are chirping away. I wonder what they say to one another before a rainstorm. Do they feel as cozy in their nest as I do in my home?

I can feel the humidity rising, waiting for it to be washed away. There is nothing better than a summer rain in late July.

By the afternoon it is pouring down. The fairy lights create a warm glow against the gray skies. It feels like the perfect excuse to tuck myself into a corner at Starbucks with a book. I order my first chai latte and I’m in love. Autumn is on its way. As I sit there and read about wild women, I feel content.

Thursday

Don’t know if it’s a cold coming on or allergies. Whatever it is, I’m down for the count.

Friday

Friday is houseplant watering day and each room is full of them. The pothos is climbing around the window, while the aloe pups are kicking the mama plant out of the pot. Why does this feel strangely familiar?

Saturday

The cold won’t let go of me, and I’m desperate to get back to the garden. I manage to water my plants and deadhead my calendula before I have to sit down. A bunny scurries away into the yellow loosestrife and hides. I tell her it’s okay. She’s welcome here.

There’s a house up the street that was bought and bulldozed, along with many mature trees. I walk past and see an empty bird’s nest lying amongst the rubble.

Sunday

On today’s menu:
Herb & Lemon Roast Chicken
Butter-Braised Leeks
Roasted Carrots
Arugula with Lemon Vinaigrette
Apple & Blackberry Crumble with Vanilla Bean Ice Cream

I put on my apron and dust off my tabletop apple peeler and corer. It hasn’t been used since last autumn. It’s time to make apple and blackberry crumble for dessert.

In a bowl I mix Granny Smith and Honeycrisp apples with blackberries, brown sugar, flour, spices (making sure I grab the cinnamon and not the coriander by mistake), lemon, and a pinch of salt.

I steal an apple from the bowl. Delicious.

The crumble topping is scattered over the mound of fruit before the dish disappears into the oven.

Next come the carrots and leeks. Lots more peeling and chopping. I head out to the garden with my snips and cut a big handful of lemon thyme for the braised leeks and to make the compound butter for the chicken.

I find a box of stovetop stuffing in the cupboard and decide to make that as well. Because why not have all the trimmings, even if it is August?

The chicken is lovingly tucked into the oven, ready to turn golden.

James is at a trampoline park with a friend, so tonight it’s just me and Ger around the table. It feels like a little glimpse into our future when we’re empty nesters.

Until our next cup of tea,

Abby

Monday

Traditional seasonal calendars never quite worked for me, so I created my own: A Year of Ordinary Magic.

It’s not a calendar of holidays or goals, but a collection of weekly invitations to notice the season I’m in and the ordinary moments that make it special.

I’m especially looking forward to Citrus and Spice week this December.

Tuesday

My new raised beds arrived. Hooray! My current beds have decided to become one with the earth again and have disintegrated into the ground. I built them ten years ago (almost to the day). They have stood up well. I took the opportunity to invest in beautiful cedar beds from EarthEasy. I have had my eye on them for many years.

The beds arrived in eight big boxes. I felt terrible for the FedEx driver. As he walked away, I opened the door, waved, and mouthed, thank you. Luckily, the dogs didn’t notice.

Wednesday

Full day in the office today. It doesn’t happen often, so I can’t complain when I get the call to come in. I treated myself to an M&M cookie on my afternoon break since I had eaten 80% of my packed lunch before I even arrived at work. Why am I hungrier when I go into the office, vs. when I am working from home?

Thursday

Half day today.

Took Henry for training. He’s building up his confidence. He didn’t particularly like the rubber mat, but he did show courage by jumping up on the raised box.

When I got home, I went straight to building my raised beds. Instructions called for leveling out the space first. I pretended not to see that and put the pieces together anyway. I got three partially done and took a look. Should have listened to the instructions. Lesson learned.

Friday

The garden looks brilliant. Even though it’s in a state of transition, I still appreciate what’s there. I may never see the Echinacea bloom because of the bunnies, but I can enjoy the Black-Eyed Susans. They are always the star of the show this time of year anyway.

Saturday

New day, new approach. I’m going to slow down and enjoy the day. I don’t have to take Henry and Lucy for a walk, I get to. I don’t have to build my raised beds, I get to. No more rushing through “tasks” just to say I’m done.

I decided to start again with the beds. No more cutting corners. I will do one bed, take my time, and do it properly. If it takes me until the end of autumn to get all six built, then that is what it will take. And boy, is it worth it. It’s looking much better than before.

I celebrate by making a cherry and almond cake. It’s delicious. It goes well with my evening cup of tea.

Sunday

Today is for lavishing the long summer days.

Enjoyed a glass of Rose from Provence in the sunshine. Played with the dogs in the backyard. I’m trying to teach them not to bark as neighbors walk by. Needless to say, I may need to buy more treats.

This evening I made:

Shrimp Scampi Linguine
Arugula with Lemon Vinaigrette
Crusty Bread & Irish Butter
Enjoyed on the deck with the family. Even James enjoyed it. I consider that a success. Beautiful evening with a slight breeze. We watched a hummingbird stop at the honeysuckle and a goldfinch stop at the bird feeder. I wish I could bottle this feeling.

Until next week,
Abby

Up for an early morning walk with Henry and then some strength training, you know, as you do when you’re forty-something. Then it’s a slow walk through the garden while I water.

The squash blossoms are open for business, hoping to entice a curious flying insect.

I rub my hands along the mint leaves. Although I’m not really a mint person, I love having it in the garden. Along with my chocolate mint, I added strawberry and Indian mint this year. Scent in the garden is a must.

The new agastache and salvia I planted last week are doing well. It felt a bit irresponsible to plant during a heat wave, but being the impulsive person I am, I did it anyway. I may regret moving my precious willow, it’s looking a bit toasty. But, I had to make room for my new garden beds. Oh well. C’est la vie.

My native beds look beautiful if you pretend not to notice the bitten-off stems of the sedum, black-eyed Susans, and echinacea, courtesy of the resident bunnies and deer. I can’t be too upset, I remind myself, since I’m just a steward of the garden. I don’t control it, nor would I want to. The garden is really for them.

After my wander through the garden, I sit outside with a cup of English Breakfast tea. I can smell the lavender. It is glorious, especially on this beautiful summer morning.

The birds fly from branch to branch before stopping for a drink at the pond. This particular morning, what I think is a gray catbird lands on the arbor covered in honeysuckle and calls out what sounds like...

“Eric. Eric. Eric.”

Who the hell is Eric?

I don’t know.

But I do hope he finds him.

I finish my tea and get on with my day.

It’s 7:30 a.m., and time for work.

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Apparently, one Google Drive is not enough for all the idea that I have collected.

Each version of me had a dedicated home. The me who wanted to be a social changemaker. The me who became a garden designer and consultant. The graduate student. The writer. The collector of half-finished dreams and future plans.

The problem is that when you're looking for something you know you once saved, you can't bloody find it.

Did I tuck it away in my Little Free Library drive? My random Projects drive? The gardening one? Who knows?

Perhaps one day I'll rediscover the piece of writing I meant to share. Until then, I'll chalk it up to one of the hazards of being curious.

The curious life is a bit untidy. You collect more than you can possibly organize, wander down too many paths, and leave breadcrumbs everywhere.

But I think I’d rather spend my life searching for old treasures than wishing I’d never gone looking in the first place.

For as long as I can remember, I've been enchanted by the things that ask us to slow down and notice.

Some were real places. A London pub where I spent a summer. A garden full of strawberries and chipmunks. Villages I have wandered through and villages I have only explored through books and maps.

Some were worlds of ideas. Gardening. Puppets. Nature. Wine. Food. Storytelling. The quiet art of creating experiences that make people feel welcome.

For years I thought these interests were unrelated. I worried that I couldn’t settle on one thing. That perhaps I was always chasing the next idea. Like a hummingbird racing from honeysuckle blossom to honeysuckle blossom, staying just long enough to glimpse the flower before darting away.

But lately I’ve begun to wonder if the thread was there all along.

Maybe I wasn’t changing directions.

Maybe I was following curiosity.

I like to go deep into life and into these fantastically interesting worlds. I want to know why a Chardonnay from Burgundy is so different from a Chardonnay from Napa Valley. What makes a garden feel magical? How a 41-year-old woman can embrace her wildness as she enters midlife.

Should you help a worm cross the road?

And if you do, what if you move it in the wrong direction?

These are the sorts of things I must know.

This little corner of the internet is a place for the things that catch my attention: gardens, books, beautiful places, food, wine, travel dreams, stories, and the small moments of wonder hidden in ordinary days.

Think of these as field notes from a curious life.

If any of that sounds familiar, pull up a chair, pour a cup of tea, and stay awhile.

I hope you’ll come wander with me.