1990 something

Edge Lea

Edge Lea was summer. A gathering place. A child’s paradise. A loud, chaotic, double-fridge kind of place. The house itself was over 100 years old- classic New England architecture and wood floors where each beam had a unique vibration, a qualifying sound. There was no air-conditioning or heat and on hot July nights we would open our windows as wide as they would go, sleeping in t-shirts, and waking up to all our covers on the floor. Endless dinner parties, dishes that never seemed to end…a kitchen that worked at an industrial pace and was always at capacity either with preparation for the next meal, clean up from the last or random activities such as the time my mother decided we should start making our own ice cream. Spoiler alert: we made a single batch of peach ice cream and that was the extent of this culinary adventure.