Al fresco everything.

When I woke up on Sunday, spring was here.


Not a teaser spring day with a snowstorm brewing. For real this time. Full of light, throw open the windows, bare feet in the grass- THAT kind of spring. It took longer to reach Park City than we were used to when we lived in Salt Lake. That might be why it felt like unwrapping a gift as I walked around our yard, greeting each happy plant and squinting a smile at the morning sun.


John made a scrumptious breakfast for us (new title: Hashbrown Champion). With his new job in full swing, we have started to truly cherish weekends again- a couple of big, wide open days together in a row. And this weekend? The theme was AL FRESCO. Whatever we were doing, we wanted to do it outside.


We lingered at the table on the back deck after breakfast, savoring the feeling of dining outdoors. With weather like this, our day was centered around the yard and garden. A trip to Home Depot for patio storage and tree-trimmers (I snagged myself a hummingbird feeder!). A drop-in at the local nursery to scope out front deck herb garden containers. Building patio furniture while Cholula napped offered moral support.


By the time dinner rolled around, we scrapped the Thai noodle bowl recipe I was going to try in favor of something- anything- on the grill. In honor of Mother’s Day, John made a delicious batch of Peep’s grilled chicken sandwiches. The sun melted into a watercolor painting in the sky. We filled and lit two gorgeous hurricane lamps that were a wedding gift from John’s Aunt BoBo, opened a nice bottle of wine, and clinked glasses to amazing mothers.  There was a slight chill in the air after the sun went behind the hill, but just pulled on sweatshirts and dined by candlelight.


The best part?

When I woke up on Monday, spring was still here. 


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s