at molly's house

We're greeted street-side with a lemonade stand George & Aidan made out of found pallets.  Turquoise school chairs are stacked just to make me swoon, I guess.  Except she doesn't try to impact folks like that.

 

When I freak over the metallic-ginko-green-on-mushroom cushions, she laughs & says they stopped in Walmart for car fluid & found the fabric there.  Of course she did.  But she used the backside, which you'd never know because it's perfectly finished with bias piping.  She wasn't going to mention it.

The boys become lost in her lush vegetable garden, where the sprinklers shoot from the top of the fence above their heads.  They hug chickens of all sizes, including a few that look like clucking ottomans before climbing into the kid's playhouse, which they built & painted to match the big one.

She feeds us kale chips, open-faced broccoli & cold-cut sandwiches with freshly grated parmessan.  Her spaghetti sauce is in yogurt containers, because she made it from scratch, & her yogurt is in spaghetti jars for the same reason.  Iced tea has been marinating with a bit of sweet for just this moment.  When she opens a fresh plum jam for breakfast, I tear up it is so beautiful & we have a little sisterly giggle-cry over how much I appreciate what she brings to the table.  I do.  As a whole foods devotee, I appreciate that she brings it.  Literally.

She throws on a little apron that she pieced together from an old black t-shirt.  With it's pin-thin straps that criss-cross all over, it's a bit rock n' roll & sexy, sexy, sexy.  Again, that never would have occurred to her.  In her softly made world nothing feels contrived, and everything feels fresh & use-full.  

Friendship can give us something to aspire towards, if we're lucky.  And I am.