rhubarb in the rain

the morning dawns under cover, accompanied by a steady drumbeat of rain. a low ceiling, not quite grey and not quite white. throughout the day this curtain rises and falls, its feathered hem revealing glimpses of the mountains beyond. raindrops drip off leaves and eaves, steady; an invitation to meditation. while i long, on the … Continue reading rhubarb in the rain

spring things, little things (and cacao cinnamon cashew bites)

the neighbor mows his lawn and the air smells sweet; later, spicy as rain releases the balm of creekside cottonwoods. thunder rumbles low, a child’s laughter peals. we dance to silly songs and play outside with rocks and sticks. the sun feels hot on my arms for the first time this season. backlit illumination on … Continue reading spring things, little things (and cacao cinnamon cashew bites)

grinding to a halt

waking up this sunday morning; a sunday morning, in some ways, like every one that has come before. outside a silver disc of sun presses through steely clouds; fine-grained snow pelts the trees standing tall in the 2-degree air. and yet. for those generations of humankind walking the earth today, this sunday morning has no … Continue reading grinding to a halt

february (and buckwheat buttermilk cinnamon rolls)

and january is gone, just like that, sliding into the shortest month of the year. february, to me, will always be the month-of-the-garden-catalog. arriving in the mailbox, pages a-shimmer with pinks and oranges and yellows and greens; splashes of color to liven the imagination when the world outside reflects only shades of grey. reminding us … Continue reading february (and buckwheat buttermilk cinnamon rolls)