:: what the water gave me

-lake michigan--september 2011-

Time it took us--
To where the water was.
That’s what the water gave me.

-florence and the machine



loving this new song.
so perfect.

in all truth.
i didn't want to get into the garden today.
life's had me stretched thread-bare.
and i didn't feel like tending anything.

but my thoughts drifted.
to little roots growing bound in sprouting containers.
and seedlings.
yellowing.
drooping.
out-growing their space.

and then i thought of salads.
fresh.
lush.
garden salads.
and salsa.
and steamed collards.
and the smell of fresh onion.

and out i went.
rolled sleeves.
and worn gloves.
to the sleeping garden.

and as things usually go.
once i was out there.
i was alive.

falling familiar.
into the groove of soil tilling.
and row plotting.

i settled all my seedlings.
and started fast.
on the dandelion harvest.
collecting just enough blooms.
to start infusing dandelion oil.

i found.
long fallen and forgotten.
an old knot.
from my uncles cherry tree.

and inspiration struck hard.

i saw that knot.
sanded smooth.
beeswaxed.
and laden with figs and cheeses.

a new woodworking project.
developing.
in the seconds.
as they passed.

and then the southern wind.
brought wafts of lilac bliss.
from the bush in the corner yard.

i ran.
barefoot.
to its branches.
and snipped an armful of blooms.
for the kitchen.


***

from my reluctance.
birthed forth.
and afternoon.
saturated.
with deep.
cleansing.
fresh air breaths.
and wild doses.
of percolating.
inspiration.

i wrapped a scarf around my neck.
this afternoon.
and took a quick jaunt.
to midtown.

popping into my favorite shop.
to stock up on basil soaps.
and frida kahlo candles.

before visiting the bakery.
for twine-wrapped mozzarella sandwiches.
and kombucha.

i came home.
and sat at the picnic table.
nibbling on lunch.
and savoring a kingsolver novel.

**

a chill is in the air today.
but i'm alright with that.

i feel like the earth.
is back where it should be.

waiting for the warmth.

go west.

the sun warms my shoulders.
through a thin white sweater.

kombucha chills in the refrigerator.
while succulent and guadalupe.
rest in the comfort of shadows.

*

the breeze blows west.
bidding me.

come.
come.

oasis.
waiting.

winter afternoon

jars of dried rosemary.
and midwifery study.

the smell of roasting olives.
& roasting beets.
in the air.

preparing for a big snow tonight.


a winter afternoon.

little things.

so many little things.
just beneath the surface here.


freelance projects.
bread baking.
west coast trip planning.
first birthdays.
walnut wood.
sherlock holmes.


the quiet calm of life.
bubbling with content.

winter quiche

temperatures here have been mild.
balmy even.
and they've left me unsettled.

there's something about january.
that begs for the crunch of snow.
beneath your boots.
and
clouds of your own breath.
in the air.

i'm anxiously awaiting spring.
and my hands in the warm earth.
but i wouldn't mind a small flake.
or two.
in the meantime.

***

it did seem a bit cooler this morning.
my feet feeling chilled on the kitchen tile.
and so it was perfect.
that i had already planned on making brooke's quiche today.

i rolled the overnight dough out on the table.
and filled its shell with:
sauteed kale, mushrooms, and garlic.
herb-laced eggs.
and sliced peppers.

the warmth from the gas stove.
permeated the house.
and the smell that wafted from the kitchen.
was divine.

***

the sun hasn't really peeked from the behind the clouds.
so i plan on staying in awhile this morning.
big slice of quiche in hand.
while i curl up to enjoy the rest of this.

***

here's to a day that nearly feels like winter.

discovering skyr

on a whim.
i went to whole foods after work the other morning.

the aisles were uncharacteristically vacant.
the flowers fresh cut.
and the loaves of bread still warm.
and steamy.

as i was leisurely exploring.
i came across this yogurt.
and in keeping with the spirit of spontaneity.
i bought a few flavors.

i came home.
peeled one open.
drizzled a touch of honey on top.
and immediately fell in love.

far and away.
the thickest.
most delicious.
yogurt i've ever tasted.

spoonfuls of bliss.

***

also:

been watching this addictive british masterpiece.
reading this simple, beautiful book.
and melting into winter landscapes while listening to this.


***

simple cheese.

made cheese today.
with joni mitchell remakes and old bluegrass playing.
such an easy.
and utterly fulfilling process.

as i stretched and shaped the mozzarella.
i found myself asking:

why did i ever buy this from a store?


simple.
delicious.


will definitely do it again.
and soon.

goat cheese.
perhaps.

oats & outdoors

vanilla bean steel cut oats.
and more fresh grapefruit juice.
this morning.

followed by an afternoon.
in bean boots.
raking near-frozen leaves.
and collecting lovely pieces.
of found cherry wood.

my mind is overwhelmed with ideas.
for my next carving project.

the morning after.

the holiday was lovely.
all lights. and love.

i spent the morning.
packing up ornaments off the tree.
and sipping fresh squeezed grapefruit juice.

the weather is so mild.
a warmish winter.

a mast brothers christmas

gifted myself some delicious
mast brothers chocolate.

perhaps i'll indulge in a corner.
tomorrow night.

flannel pajama-clad.
in the light of the christmas tree.

apple verbena jam + sharp cheddar grilled cheese.
fresh coffee.
the new issue of kinfolk.
and thick knit socks.

a combination culminating into wintery bliss.

shoes & self portraits

i splurged.
and bought myself a new digital camera.
one all decked out.
with detachable lenses.
and artsy filters.

no need to edit.
nearly every photo is magic.

and although i've only shot.
shoes & self portraits.

i get the impression.
that this camera and i will get along.
just fine.

documenting the moon.

{moon. 10/8/11}

life has been full.
oh. so. full.

and i've found precious little time to document it.

spontaneous road trips across the state at sunrise.
blue corn pancakes.
dancing stage-side at concerts.
and northern exposure re-runs.

have consumed my days.
and nights.

oh- i've taken photos all along the way.
have no doubts.
and undeveloped film.
lays cased in my purse.
as we speak.
just aching to be processed.
and shared.

proper updates are in the works.
a diary of fall excitement.

in the meantime.
i'll keep trying for that perfect picture of the moon.

:: the north

missing northern michigan...

cast iron & succulent

using a little plastic film camera.
can often result in happy accidents.
images that are survivors.
ones that make it against the odds.
ones that were never meant to be.

like this beauty.
an unlikely pairing of cast iron & succulent.

one that i love all the more.
for being something so much greater.
than the sum of its parts.

::: a thousand different ways...

i went to lake michigan this past weekend.

rock jumped past the lighthouse.

wandered through the forests.

hiked the hilly sand dunes.


and while the earth.

in all her glorious splendor.

was utterly breathtaking.


i found myself consistently looking up.

to the sky.

to the light.



i discovered there are a thousand different ways.

to see the sun.

::: hermes rocket

i came to possess a hermes typewriter.

the click click clacking.

is the methodical sound of a time gone-by.




i am pretty much obsessed with the little thing.

::: tour de troit-- part 3: the diana film edition

randoms of detroit.

through the lens of my diana camera.



that old airstream.

is actually a traveling taco hut.

and.

that abandoned house in the third picture.

is my favorite in the city.

i often drive by.

slow down.

and imagine a life there.

+++