Parisian scented matches, a cool pill case, and British chocolate bars
Plus the Tiny Awards celebrate “the small, poetic, creative, handmade web”
As a child, August was a month of oppressive heat; of box fans and cool damp washcloths. Back then, I dreaded August as back-to-school loomed large. However, tonight, as Alex and I sit on the screened porch and listen to the peepers in the cool night air, I realize that somewhere along the way, I’ve fallen hard for August’s charms: the bushes of wild blackberries, the goldfinches, the blue skies full of storybook clouds, the riot of wildflowers, the soft serve, the late-night runs to the gas station for pints of Ben and Jerry’s (Americone Dream, thank you very much!). The fullness of the season, the ripeness, and the sense of possibility.
Tim has been away this week, and the kids and I fell into an unexpectedly sweet rhythm. Sometimes being a solo parent means going back to basics, letting go, and embracing the absolute chaos of life. This week, I found a particular kind of small joy in simply being in sync with my kids - saying no less and yes more.
The temperature this evening has fallen to the point that I’m about to go inside and get a sweater (!!). I’ll leave you with the small joy of sweater season on the horizon and a delightful review of luxury Swiss Miss by my friend Jim plus the Tiny Awards, in particular: Cloudgazing and One Minute Park.
A. A dear friend went to Paris and brought me back these scented French matches! When I smelled them tonight, over chips and tzatziki in her kitchen, with teens milling about outside, I thought, “this is what friendship smells like.”
B. These pebbles are charming; sent by a friend who lives many states away but stays in touch by sending me dispatches from her internet travels. A long-distance friendship; the biggest joy of all.
C. I spotted this roadside pottery vase in a store window tonight; gah! IRL life shopping is sometimes pure delight. I’m heading to a local tag sale tomorrow morning, and I will report back.
D. My sister and her wife took wonderful care of my kids last weekend so Tim and I could go away for a few nights; I spied these Pilljoy boxes in my very cool sister-in-law’s possession.
E. Raisins in chocolate is my forever fav. Tiny delicious chocolate bars! and Yorkie!
F. I picked up a package of these Sharpie pens in our local slice of heaven, also known as CVS. Rural sensory deprivation is real.
G. A tiny joy is keeping one of these Mini Oxi Clean bottles in my closet for the inevitable stains.
H. Another find from my sister: this mini and adorable Yeti.
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A great single-strap tote bag!
Tim and I stopped in Lyrical Ballad Bookstore in Saratoga. 10 rooms of used books! BLISS!
I’ve been looking for a mesh bag to hold my computer charger …
Abbey, your writing always transports me and I wished I was sitting on that porch with you and Alex. I love August but it is also bittersweet and E.B. White's description of the crickets in Charlotte's Web encapsulates August for me.
"The crickets sang in the grasses. They sang the song of summer's ending, a sad monotonous song. "Summer is over and gone," they sang. "Over and gone, over and gone. Summer is dying, dying."
"The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summer cannot last forever. Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year - the days when summer is changing into fall - the crickets spread their rumor of sadness and change."
"Everyone heard the song of the crickets. Avery and Fern Arable heard it as they walked the dusty road. They knew that school would soon begin again. The young geese heard it and knew that they would never be little goslings again. Charlotte heard it and knew she hadn't much time left. Mrs. Zuckerman, at work in the kitchen, heard the crickets, and a sadness came over her, too. 'Another summer gone,' she sighed. Lurvy, at work building a crate for Wilbur, heard the song and knew it was time to dig for potatoes."
I wish I could write a fraction as well as E.B. White. I think of that description nearly every night since the crickets started back up a week ago here in Salt Lake. At fifty, I guess I have settled into my Mrs Zuckerman role.
I love the sharpie pens too (especially the green ones pictured)! Bonus: they're good for left handed people. Left handed writing mechanics are pushing the pen/pencil instead of pulling the pen/pencil which results in a lot more catching on the paper, so the smooth gel ink is nice. But most gel inks make a huge smeary mess for lefties, so the fact that it's special quick dry gel ink makes it useable!