Slow Sundays
Peach Bake Recipe, Why we Host, Samples of House Build Selections + Book Recommendations as the Season pushes to Fall...
A Peach Bake—
Sweet and soft with a pop of tart crunch.
3 Peaches
1 C. Oats
1 Lemon (for juice)
2 Pinches Salt
1/2 Stick Butter (cubed)
1 Drizzle Vanilla
1 Handful Flour
2 Spoon fulls of Dark Brown Sugar
A Healthy Sprinkle of Pumpkin Spice (or just Cinnamon)
Cream (optional)
Grease the bottom of a cast iron pan and mix all ingredients together well. Bake at 225 for 45-60 minutes (or until golden brown)
Serve in a pan with cream on the side as an option for drizzling.
Drool. Enjoy.
Pro Tip— Better when served with a cup of coffee. Great for breakfast or dessert or a snack.
It’s the first of September; I’m in the same spot where I started my summer posts, with a cup of steaming coffee, books stacked all around me, feet in the sand. One child is off fishing, and the other is having some quiet time. The sounds are ambient this morning; the geese flying South for winter. Same place, the sentiment has shifted. Away from the exciting anticipation of summer waiting for us to dive in and Fall, luring us into the crisp mornings and a reach for more warm drinks. It’s officially that time of year when I want to reach for a sweater, I start craving coffee at home in the mornings, or I want a big glass of red wine with a tall, thin stem because its welcoming and matches the decor. I want to make hours-long stew and homemade bread. The end of Summer reminds me that staying present is important—I try to savor every last bit of the warmth to help get me through May’s snow. With the turn of the air, I start daydreaming about the Holidays. Christmas Eve is becoming mine to share with my extended family. It feels like a childhood dream come true to welcome my aunts, my uncles, and my cousins into our home, elbows touching as we squeeze in around the table with the Christmas tree practically tickling the person at the end of the table in our tinier space. Every year, I’m determined not to separate the kids from the adult table, a seemingly lifelong battle in every home during the holidays. “But I don’t want to sit at the kid’s table,” says the 14-year-old. I attempt to tie in my grandparents with the food prepared and stories told. This will likely be our last Christmas in this home, which makes my eyes well up as I type. I cherish these days, and I’ll love the next chapter for different reasons: perhaps more elbow room.
If my life’s stories were printed on paper and stacked on the shelves of an old private library, I like to imagine they’re tucked next to the shelves of my family— family of origin and choice. Each of our versions of the stories is sandwiched between the next with variance and overlap—sometimes even the same sentences… told in unison, loudly, with smiles or tears. But together. They’re aligned on these beautiful shelves, and a ladder slides across the beams, pages torn, worn, or crisp from not being revisited enough or at all, with intention. I often lean into a collection from my childhood with the deepest joy, especially at the end of the year. I happily anticipate that these are the moments my children will carry with them for the rest of their lives. Holidays as an adult is dynamic and rewarding but so different then when we’re tiny babes in the throws of loud voices, anticipation of imaginary characters, grandpa’s laughter swallowing us whole, heaps of over-buttered mashed potatoes filling our plates and wrapping paper flying everywhere— so, I want to make it most magical in all the way that I can. But for now, I’m starting to anticipate the arrival of the holidays and how sweet it could be for each one who arrives. How will holidays be special for you? What can you re-imagine or do entirely differently? What are the traditions of your home that are to be honored or to be started anew? Allow it to begin brewing now so you're prepared by the time they arrive— heart, soul, and home.