The wild garlic was unfurling along the cliff as it is now. I began writing this blog in March last year, tentatively, speaking to my many selves, speaking
from my many selves. Hoping to bring them all together into a whole and connected one. I think I've succeeded, because nowadays, I'm a lot more comfortable in my own skin. I'm a lot less afraid of what I might find, well
anywhere. Bringing light to dusty corners of your psyche can do that for you. Finding amazing friends and community along the way, that's a truly unexpected blessing. Thank you my friends, and my mentors, my guides along this journey.
Here is a poem about voice and grief. Many, many years ago now, I attended a funeral of a girl in my class, she was a young mother, she was diagnosed with a particularly fast acting form of leukemia and was dead before many of us even found out about it. As I drove through the evening home through the landscape of rural New York, this was just like what the
spirit of place was saying:
Bare Boughs still this Spring(In memoriam)Rain and apple trees.
Lilac buds swell on black stems,
Secret, clitoral, rapt.
I can’t untie this knot, deep
where things come from, deep
at the bottom of my voice.
Joy, sprung rhythm,
clenched and petrified:
A fist, that born words batter against.
A fever in the blood.
By the stream, the clay leans
toward the water, eager for swiftness,
eager to reflect the sky,
Deadpan.
Only the colours of old paint,
Spread and bloom,
Like roots.
Don't let this be a gloomy poem - the spring here and now, is full of hope. Let's wish the knot untied. Let the fist unclench.
Happy Blogversary to me.
Dessert table, Whippornock Manor, Thanksgiving 2008
After my trip to Malaysia, it seems I am on Blogholiday too. My kitchen is still being finished, I'm cooking in it now and will post a few pics before and after. It has really taken all my attention to get it done. And we have had/ are having/ will have some wonderful and lovely people to stay - this house is an amazingly sociable house. I can't be antisocial and BLOG while they are here, can I? Sigh, it seems like I can only do this in the wee hours of the morning, with the rain drumming on the conservatory roof. I love that sound. I keep saying it on twitter. It's a lovely comforting sound. The wind blowing the leaves of the trees, make the lights of town twinkle even more madly. This picture is one of the alliums in my garden. It is quite a giant one, I posted this on twitpic - cool app. If I didn't have a blog I would just twitter and twitpic. I congratulate myself that I put enough sockets round the breakfast bar that I can sit here on my computer as long as I like, but since it is so late, dear reader, must bid you adieu. And I'll be back soon. Very soon.
I had a few celebrations, April is the cruellest month for cake in this house.
The wild garlic was unfurling along the cliff as it is now. I began writing this blog in March last year, tentatively, speaking to my many selves, speaking from my many selves. Hoping to bring them all together into a whole and connected one. I think I've succeeded, because nowadays, I'm a lot more comfortable in my own skin. I'm a lot less afraid of what I might find, well anywhere. Bringing light to dusty corners of your psyche can do that for you. Finding amazing friends and community along the way, that's a truly unexpected blessing. Thank you my friends, and my mentors, my guides along this journey.
Bare Boughs still this Spring
Who came up with the sublime juxtaposition of hot fat, fluffy potato and salt? These little critters probably contribute to the obesity of the western world, but oh, how many people can refuse some, just a few? I always nick a few off the children's plate if I make them with fish fingers and brocolli. They are only nice hot and crunchy out the pan, steaming in the middle, with the lovely shock of salt and olive oil. mmm.
