Blog Archives

Some days require a campfire

10/31/2015

Some days require a campfire. I dragged the logs from the pile, split the wood, and poured breath into a fledgling flame. With hopeful glances, I furtively groomed the yard as the coals came to life, and words came slowly to the page.

Right now nothing is on my mind.

I pet my dog, listening to the sizzling logs dry out
and the flames twist in the air like
an arrant flag contorting in the current.

The chickens peck and flap and groom
and tap dancing
leaves roll across our mossy roof.

Fall 2015

10/3/2015

The pageantry of this season urges stillness like nothing else. There is a rhythm, and it goes like this: First, the sound of rain splashes broadly on surrendering trees, and then (in mid-morning) the water droplets form rock garden patterns in the bowled leaves that have come to rest on the deck—just briefly in this silence--before the chimes signal the winds.

As they do, the cranberries soak the air, and—for this season of endings—our family has been met with sweet, sweet beginnings.

Congratulations, you two!

Juniper and me

Yes, there is the food . . .

Prince William Sound Shrimp

Adam and I were delighted in the surprise delivery of these beautiful shrimp on one of the last days of the season. Thank you Jessie and Paul for sharing your bounty.

Jessie and Paul

Pizza Night to Celebrate an Engagement

Soups and stews to warm the
bones before the frost coats

Beef Burgundy

Chicken Broth

Lastly, friendship

Toes in the sand against the
backdrop of
caramelized leaves
Kasia, my friend, we'll sip wine and

Fall
Fall
Fall into a season.

and landscape

and fall is done.

because to why

10/3/2015

There are those days that seem to take form from pure kinetic energy. The work you do, the plans you lay bring into motion a day, whole in rejuvenation.

It started with poetry from my favorite, E.E. Cummings.

Blueberries, port like, summoned and satisfied; they burst into crimson stains in the snow beneath my footfalls, not to mention on my yearning palette.

Then, after a facial from Kelly Strong, I walked up the saddle in Eagle River. It was a silent and spacious hike, so I'm compelled to bring back scenes from the mountains.

Doesn't the soil seem richer in anticipation of the nutrient dense leaves? Decay and life are interwoven here, and the yellow will melt into the earth to return in the spring.

Back from the mountain, Adam and I savored the vestiges of summer. Allie, my sweet friend, shared her father-in-law's tomato bounty with us, so Adam and I crafted the best recipe we know for fresh tomatoes: Caprese, and it was the finest version we have ever had.