Well, I finally got around to finishing the craft. Over the summer, my family and my husband's mom/brother/grandmother/aunts/cousins/foreverandeveramen went to the lake.
It was a bittersweet trip, as it ended up being the last that we'd spend with my husband's Aunt Lori.
Because we knew at the time that things weren't going the way we'd hoped they would for her, I wanted to do something special to remember the trip. While we were there, I spent quite a while scouring the ground for perfectly shaped pine cones. I had an idea for small gifts for the family.
Originally, I thought these would make great additions to Christmas presents, but I decided to make them as "Just Because" presents instead.
My mom died when I was 20. I was a sophomore in college and it blindsided me. We didn't have a fantastic relationship -- we hardly had one at all. But it was still really hard. Unexpectedly hard.
![]() |
| My mom & dad in the late 1970s. |
Two months before she died was the last time I saw her. It was Christmas and she gave me two dollar store candles. I remember being mad that she gave me cheap candles -- especially because they weren't scents I liked (Apple Pie and Cinnamon Spice). How horrible of me. Absolutely horrid, childish behavior.
When she died, I kept the candles on my desk. Each time I moved after that -- from a dorm to an apartment, to my next apartment with fewer roommates, to my own apartment in Oklahoma, to this house where I've started my family -- I've kept the candles out.
I burn them whenever the loss is particularly acute. When my kids have a new adventure and I wish I could tell her about it. When I dream of her and wake up lonely.
I wanted to do the same for her family with these tokens from the lake trip. I melted scented tea candles (Apple Pie and Cinnamon Spice) on a double boiler over high heat, then dipped the pine cones in the wax and sprinkled them with sugar.
Whenever the mood strikes, you just throw one of these in the fireplace. The wax will melt and smell wonderful and the sugar will spark around the pine cones until it burns off.
I hope these pine cones are, in a small way, the same comfort for everyone this first Christmas without Lori as the candles have been for me.


