Each season has its hinge. It's not a particular date on the calendar, it's more like we become forest creatures and just know. For me, it's the moment I slip the yard man an extra $20 to drag my tangerine tree from the sunroom out onto the patio. Literally six inches from where it lives all winter, just the other side of the window pane, but with it comes a completely different social life. The garden once again becomes my living room.
I read somewhere recently about the dawn of iced coffee season. (You know I liked that.) Even though I'm a hot coffee year round kind of gal. Even when it's a hundred degrees with swamp-like humidity here in Washington. Then there's my wonderful college roommate Nanny, who lives on the oft frozen north shore of Boston, but is a twelve-months-a-year disciple of Dunkin Donuts iced coffee. What is it with New Englanders and Dunkin Donuts? And why is it that the only donut I like, the butternut, is only sold in their New England stores? Maybe that's actually a good thing for me.
Where was I ... honoring the hinge. Which reminds me of my dad. READ MORE