The sewing room is needy but the gorgeous day going on outside is beckoning. I have things to do before the homecoming of most of my babies for this weekend. I am giddy because I get to see My Vivien and to embrace Baby Girl's bountiful growth. I am excited like Christmas and this beautiful day isn't making it any easier to focus. Extra dog walks just to be outside. Even weeding takes on a renewed joy. Not the sweaty, drippy task of summer. This is pleasantly puttering and noticing the changes in the garden preparing for sleep. This is the kind a day that I remember the young mama days. Today, after my lunch dessert of sliced apples with peanut butter, I began the clean up before heading outside to 'play'. Eating alone can sometimes provide a bit of extra that you just can't finish. As I picked up the apple core and two small slices of sub par apple, I quickly remembered an annual autumnal practice that I had forgotten about till this very day. On those pleasant fall days of long ago, when my young ones asked to do their school work in our tree fort on on the porch or patio, I would make up late afternoon snacks to keep them till supper time. In fall, the treat often turned to apple slices with peanut butter or cheese. The younger ones usually fought with apple skins so I would attempt to peel the apple in one long spiral strip. Sometimes, the olders would chomp away on the leavings, but mostly I had other plans for the peels.
In an old pan, I would add the peels and cores and sometimes the occasional bad spots. I would fill the pan with water, a teaspoon or so of whole cloves, three or more cinnamon sticks and a swig of vanilla. This lovely concoction would brew and soon fill the house with an aroma to rival any packaged potpourri. This mixture would last for days before it had to be thrown out but in the meantime, we all enjoyed the simmering, spicy, fragrant apples.
I know, as sure as I sit there, that when my kiddos come home to roost tonight, the first thing that they will comment on is the smell of the house with all it's appley, cinnamony goodness. The last time BG was home, during a reprieve from the heat and the windows were open, she proclaimed quickly, 'It smells like my childhood in here!' since we did not have air conditioning while the children were growing up. The smell of fresh air was a given in our Little House on the Prairie, technological starved home.
Something tells me, I will hear that same statement at least three times tonight.....