When I married into the Duggan family, I learned about all-day coffee. Up until that point I believed coffee was strictly a morning drink. My dad was the coffee drinker in our house and I never saw him with a cup of coffee outside of the early morning hours. Of course, he could have been at work guzzling the caffeinated wonder bean by the pot, but I would never know that.

I suspect few people know that the various species of sumac plants have to their credit an especially long list of medicinal uses by Europeans in ages past, by American Indians, by our pioneers, and by early American physicians.  Even the name “sumac” is thought to be of Arabian origin. We usually notice our sumac species—the smooth, or dwarf, sumac—only in late summer or early fall after its leaves and fruit have turned to that beautiful red. Unfortunately, I have space to mention only a smattering of the many ways the sumacs have been used medicinally throughout human history.

Ask Murphy not to do something or why she is doing something and lately her answer will likely have an interesting caveat. Because I want to.

“Murphy, why are you standing on mommy’s couch?”

“Because I want to,” Murphy says with her head nodding while maintaining eye contact over the back of the couch willing me to agree with her.

Everything is because she wants to—or doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to brush her teeth, she wants to eat pasta for every meal, she doesn’t want to potty on the toilet—and then five seconds later she does want to.

Life is always changing, but what is it about going back to your hometown that makes you feel like you are 17-years-old again? Even when I roll across the Franklin County line in my grown-up car with my husband and two children, car packed with diapers, extra clothes and goldfish snacks, I still feel like an awkward teenage girl.