California

California. Always inspires me to harvest, experiment, cook, can, brine and of course, to eat. We had a sweet family visit in Sonoma- long lunches, swimming, chatting and resting. Next time, we will actually pick some of those olives from the tree and try brining them ourselves. I like this tutorial- for you Cali peeps- do it for me! http://honest-food.net/2009/10/11/how-to-cure-green-olives/ /

New Home

It is amazing, but it seems that a kitty, some unpacked dishes and making some walnut pesto will make a new house into a home. Settling in and feeling good. Our new neighbors include young buck deer, lots of magpies, hummingbirds and crawfish in our little stream.

Basil Walnut Pesto Ingredients: 1/2 cup walnut halves 2 cups fresh basil leaves 2 large garlic cloves, peeled and coarsely chopped 1/4 cup freshly grated pecorino romano, parm or other hard cheese of choice 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste Directions: Place walnut halves in the bowl of a food processor. Process until finely chopped. Add in the basil leaves and garlic cloves. Pulse until incorporated and no large pieces of garlic remain. Pulse in the grated cheese. With the lid on and motor running, stream in the olive oil. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Moving day

Thursday July 26, 9:36 p.m. Long day of working, packing, reading, remembering, sorting and feeling. After two and half years of living in this lovely home, we are moving on to another spot, another project another family of grasses, trees and stones. Moving is sort of like going to the dentist. It is a hard task to like, but there is something satisfying about the end result. Having moved so much in my adult life, I have come to see each move as a time to reflect, to appreciate the space that has held so much life as it slowly empties out. I found old books of poetry, beloved photos, champagne flutes that were gathering dust. All old friends moving in and out of time with me. I kept seeing flashes of orange- the color of the creative center. May it be so, that we all find empty in the fullness and fullness in the empty.

Cycles

Back from a visit with my 94 year old, vivacious, inspiring Grandmother. So many feelings: gratitude, tenderness, nostalgia, fear of the unknown. We went to the beach and planted ourselves in the sand for a few hours watching the waves- a ritual I have done with her since I was a very small child. We collected a few shells for the children and she told sailing stories. The day after I returned my first child turned 7. Rudolph Steiner wrote about 7 year cycles. According to him, the second seven year cycle is associated with Mercury. At this time, the child's imagination and feeling life takes center stage. I can feel the changes. All of them. With my Grand, with me, with my sons, the seasons. When I am with my Grandmother, we always read poetry. This is one of our favorites by Edna St. Vincent Millay.

God's World

O WORLD, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag 5
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!

Long have I known a glory in it all,
But never knew I this;
Here such a passion is 10
As stretcheth me apart. Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year.
My soul is all but out of me,—let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

Ups and Downs

Man. Just back among the living after a weekend of being totally bedridden with a hideous head cold. No matter how I cut it, I usually get sick this time of year. Even though I tried to escape this year by sneaking off to Costa Rica for the coldest part of January. No luck. It was so delicious to be at the beach with my family. Time just to read, to eat, to be together without all running in different directions.
I read this and this and loved them both for different reasons (reviews on Goodreads if you should care to hear more).
Now we are back. It snowed 24 inches in the mountains this week and I had a weekend to ruminate on how wonderful it is to feel good (feeling lousy as I did) and recommit to doing basic things to keep myself healthy. Top 3: Drink more water, eat mostly plants, walk and breath and notice when I am doing them both. Other inspirations include the morning green smoothies, blue corn posole, and pearled barley.
I am feeling the ups and downs, as always, but somehow getting older (which I always do in January) is making me feel ever more drawn the place where those two seas meet.

Solstice 2011

It is hard to detect this time of year,
only a faint suggestion finds its way, occasionally to your first cranial nerve and you feel a jolt of pleasure or pain, depending on your inclination.

but it is there.
The midnight blue of Keat’s nightingale, the fountains of cherubs, the night blooming jasmine- the inner garden of longing, turmoil and when tended, forgiveness.

When days are short there is less time for wandering, for admiring the tangle of vines and flowers, for the kind of imagination that is so natural to cats, to lovers, to nursing babes. A slow, languid sort that has no destination.
When it is cold, we ally our corporeal compass homeward, inside, we want fire.

Stack of sticks, whispered prayers , a hope weaned from logic, a sense that if we stay up and watch the sky with each other, the sun will decide again to burn toward us from the just the right distance, like a father who has raised so many children it seems he is doing it without thinking but the truth is this is the ta-da,this loving hand of light, raising us up, each one, each day.

Pre party