A time to eat / by Christina Rosalie

In the summer, when the heat pushes in through the screens and the crickets and the traffic and the yelling of kids playing stickball in the street fills the air with soundwaves, I don't cook. The oven makes the house too hot. And usually, I'm not hungry for more than a salad or some grilled corn or pizza anyway.

But come fall, when the skys are sharp and clear with cookie-cutter stamps of clouds--white agains a chilly blue, then it's time for soups, for scones, for bread.