CROISSANT BROWNIES

September 17, 2021 Posie Brien

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They pull over and park on the side of a dusty, dirt- and gravel-packed road alongside the river, where it curves lazily under a covered bridge and disappears away in the distance like a silver coil. Above them, one hot air balloon rises in the dusky late-evening sunshine, then two, then three. Within twenty minutes, the entire sky is filled with them. The one closest to them is a patchwork of canary yellow and bright red squares. She watches it rise, pausing to sneak a quick sideways glance at him—just as rapt— then turns back to witness the continued ascent. His hand, broad and calloused, brushes against hers and her heart seems to mirror the ballon: so light and full it might burst out of her chest.

Summer, she thinks. Summer is the best time with him.

CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE CAKE

September 7, 2021 Posie Brien

Things that make me feel more like myself:

The smell of wood smoke in early fall
Thinking about books I loved when I was little (the Betsy-Tacy series, the Mennyms, Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, The Hobbit)
Arguments (the right kind)
Music I listened to in high school and still do (Indigo Girls, Simon & Garfunkel, The Beach Boys)

HOMEMADE STOREBOUGHT-STYLE ICE CREAM SANDWICHES

September 4, 2021 Posie Brien

On very cold winter days, she sometimes lets herself imagine summer for a few brief moments. She closes her eyes and pretends that it’s the time of year when something shifts imperceptibly overnight from spring warmth to real heat. If she concentrates, she can summon it vividly enough that becomes almost tangible: Her skin practically smells like she’s just rubbed coconut-scented sunscreen onto her cheeks. Like her toes are already dusty with sand as she stands down by the dock.

S’MORES ICEBOX CAKE

September 1, 2021 Posie Brien

On very foggy mornings, he rolls over and murmurs sleepily to her, “We’re inside a cloud!” before closing his eyes again. Fog rolls in often on the coastline, blanketing the ocean and horizon beyond, leaving the clapboard houses to the left and right of theirs awash in a delicate mist. Humid mornings, especially before or after rain, are a study in grays: dove gray clouds, silvery gray drizzle, curtains of pewter condensation obscuring the hydrangea bushes that have been aching to burst into bloom all spring and are now reveling in their seasonal riot of color.

FUDGY PECAN BROWNIES (GLUTEN-FREE)

August 30, 2021 Posie Brien

It’s hot outside again—so hot, in fact, that she barely has any interest in eating the croissant she buys this morning. She takes it from the paper bag; it’s still warm from the oven and the heat of it has started to leave a moist imprint against the bottom of the bag. She tears off a piece from the end and a shower of flakes fall onto her lap, like a dusting of buttery snow. She sighs, and puts the croissant back down on the picnic table, where he grabs at it, almost toppling over backwards on his unsteady legs.

“Easy,” she chides him, and he presses the length of his body against her torso, sturdy and sticky with sweat already. It’s not even 9 AM but he’s constantly in motion, his small legs churning, his arms pumping comically at his sides.

Eating and adventuring.

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