least with the herbs, she could cook with them, even provide nutritional value, and that appealed to her.
Less is more. That had always been her motto.
She snipped a few more sprigs to hang up and dry. The lemon balm and lavender looked pretty, and they had healing properties. Can’t get enough of that.
How bad would my life be if I didn’t have a porch full of these plants? Calming lemon balm. Lazing lavender. Oregano for respiratory issues. Dill, basil, sage, mint, parsley, and thyme all had their roles too.
She lifted the clippings and let them rest on her arm against her body, not wanting to crush them.
“Come on, Denali.” He followed her inside, where she separated the sprigs on the counter.
Last weekend she’d stopped at a garage sale on her way back home from the grocery store. Among the yard full of household items, there’d been a huge over-the-couch-size painting in an ornate frame, marked thirty dollars. The picture itself was horrible: dark muted colors smudged together with a stormy look that couldn’t be anything but bad mojo. Who would want something so ominous in their house?
That was probably why it was still sitting there so late in the day. The frame was worth more than the painting would ever be. She offered ten dollars, and the woman looked grateful to have a bid at all.
Amanda had walked away with that huge painting, and the first thing she’d done when she got home was rip the canvas from the frame. She rolled it up and smooshed it deep down in the big trash bin outside. With the kids’ help, she went to town scrubbing the years of collected dust and grime away from the frame.
Surprisingly, it cleaned up nicely. A much lighter color, with almost a golden shimmer to the stained wood. All it needed was a coat of gloss over it.
“It’s pretty, Mom.” Hailey already had very clear opinions on decorative items.
“I think so too.” She stood it up and leaned it against the pump house to dry in the sun.
Later, she hauled the half-empty bucket of polyurethane from the shed. She brushed two coats on the frame while the kids and Denali raced through the backyard, their playful giggles like background music.
She dragged an old roll of chicken wire that she’d found in the shed when they moved in. It had long ago lost its shine. She’d almost thrown it out a couple of times, but she was glad she’d resisted the temptation. It would be perfect.
She measured the frame, then rolled out enough chicken wire to cut a piece to size. Her kitchen scissors wouldn’t do it, and she hated to ruin them by trying. She went back into the shed and rummaged through Jack’s old toolbox. She pulled out a chisel and a hammer. It only took one swift bump with the hammer to separate the delicate wire.
Thump-thump-thump. She made her way through every octagon and then attached the wire to the back of the frame with a few well-placed paneling nails.
Hailey and Jesse walked over and squatted beside her. “What are you making?” Hailey asked.
“Guess!” Amanda loved playing the guessing game with these two. Their minds always surprised her.
“Jail!” Jesse held his hands up like he was behind bars.
“Oh no. What are you in jail for?”
“Too many cookies.”
“What? Have you been sneaking my cookies?” she pretended to be mad.
“No, I ate Sissie’s.”
She glanced over at Hailey. “He didn’t steal them. I let him have them.”
Amanda picked up an imaginary gavel. “I release you from jail.” She banged the gavel three times, then pretended to toss it over her shoulder. “You are free to roam the yard.”
He lifted his hands in the air, then took a lap around the grass.
She picked up the framed wire, pleased with the results. “Y’all can help me hang it.”
They followed her inside like baby ducks on a windy day, rushing to keep up with her.
She held the frame up to the blank wall near the door. “What do you think?”
“Okay,” Jesse said.
“It needs a picture.” Hailey pulled her hands to her hips.
“Well, I thought we could turn this into a project. Once a week we can cut herbs, tie them with pretty ribbons, and hang them here to dry.”
“So, then we can make yummy salts?”
“Exactly. Or with the lavender, we could make potpourri so everything smells pretty.”
“I love that.”
“I’ll teach you both how to tie a bow too.”
“Yes.” Jesse fist-pumped. Oh how Jack would’ve loved Jesse’s spunk.