Intuitive Feasts

I am not a visionary. I am a dreamer, however. And I have noticed that the relationships that foster and are most amused by my capacity for speculation and fantasy are the ones in which I am most comfortable. (Read: free to wave that flag.) KT is always willing to indulge my ideas as well as my emotions, and for that, I am always eternally grateful. But I don't think even she could have forseen this.

The week before last, I took that gorgeous drive up the Eastern Shore to join KT and Ted, and all of the other Thorns and some Higsons (thanks Mollie and Phil!!) at their beach house in Delaware. I stopped by the Farmer's market before I left, and arrived in Bethany armed with more veggies than you could shake a stick at. Oh, and no plan as to what to do with them. Beach houses are fantastic for oh, so many reasons. One reason is the adventurous spirit by which you must approach cooking- kind of like camping deluxe.



So, we dove right in, planning banana peppers stuffed with fresh goat cheese and herbs, brown rice, and a Mexican ratatouille with veggies, black beans and salsa. We had so much fun- I laughed and said something like 'Wouldn't it be fun to have intuitive dinners at the farm? We could bring in whatever was good that day, and make something up!' KT said she didn't know too many brides that would go for an intuitive menu for their wedding. She was probably right, but check out the Orangette entry for 8/20.

Weird, eh?

The Day of Clyde

I am a great lover of ritual and tradition. I don't mean political or social tradition necessarily, in fact I rather admire rebellion. It is the cycle of the days, the seasons that I relish. I love that the Milk Moon always, always comes right before the Moon of Making Fat. I love that right now it is tomato season. I love that certain Thanksgiving dishes trigger certain memories, the stuff legend is made of. The variations in the ritual, both natural and cultural, build and trigger memories. These days set bonds that strengthen our relationships.

What is so special about today? One year ago exactly, I drove breathlessly down highway 64 to get a puppy out of the pound. I can't say that I rescued him, because I honestly didn't know what I was going to do with him. It was just a mission really, an idea close to compulsion. I had to find him. In the days before his arrival, while I was waiting to see whether his previous people would show up to claim him, I restlessly painted my living room for the fifth (but not final) time. (I did not finish painting until January.) Nevertheless, the day arrived when Animal Control would release him. I remember that I got lost on the way to the Henrico County Animal Protection site, and had to turn around twice (which is notable because the Henrico pound is near nowhere you want to be.) I finally found the building, and had to walk through the entire room of hopeful, undeniably sad dogs before I spotted him- the pup who, only a few weeks before had captured my heart with his intrinsically joyful (what I would discover later as inherently dog) nature. He was in the second to the last cage, and as I searched, I remember worrying that I had perhaps forgotten what he looked like. But, there he was, and for $10.00 and a promise that I would 'sterilize' him, we were on our way. We stopped by the backdoor of the car, and it finally dawned on me that I had no idea about dogs. I couldn't even get him to get in the back of my car!

So, after a moment's pause, I put my arms around him, and helped him in. He rode with his face in mine all the way home.

Now, I will not bore you will all of the reasons my life is better because I have Clyde in it. Yet, for many reasons it is, and as a fan of anniversaries and other days of note, I am glad to have this opportunity to remember the day this goofy, lovable, nearly 80 pound beast came barrelling into my heart.



And there he stayed.

the Beach!!

Ok- so, here is a story of how I tried to impress my (almost) three year old godson with my sandcastle making technique. I dug the appropriate 'moat' around an island, which he heard as a 'boat.' So, after much explanation (and perhaps some pleading), the moat and castle idea went by the wayside, and we built the first ever Gaudi- inspired 'drip boat'. It was gorgeous. Of course, all he told his momma about his beach trip was that I took him "under the waves". It was true, at his request, I did. But, Momma, I promise- I held on tight.

What I Did on my Summer Vacation....

or: How I Ate My Way Through California...



I did it. I dragged everyone to Chez Panisse. And I took photos, (shamelessly), of all of the food that graced our table. It was fantastic, and beautiful, and I will gush on and on about it, if you will let me.

But, there's more. We went to the Scharffen Berger factory which smelled quite a lot like heaven.


And then, there is the Wright/ Easton compound, which is so beautiful, it is a wonder we ever left...


















And, for those of you who haven't started 'Animal, Vegetable, Miracle yet, 'tis the season... here is one reason why...


This poster was in a bathroom next door to a bookstore in Berkeley, called Black Oak or something. (Hence the terrible photo.) Anyway, take heed...

Ode to the Tomato

Oh- now that is a tomato. Purple Cherokee, you are the one for me. You must be seen to be believed- the ultimate in tomato- ness, (tomato- osity) and maybe even in summer- ness. Your flavor is perfect- a little salty with the sweet, and your texture is oh- so- smooth. Look at that color- it is nearly pornographic. I have to stop before I get too terribly carried away. Goodness me...

I have been singing 'Paradise City' all morning. It may just be because I am getting ready to leave for California tomorrow, where the air is sweet with wild fennel and there is no humidity. Take. Me. Home- yeah, yeah.

Ahhh... the dry air usually comes second to my love for the south in the summer. But, I gotta say, it just may bring my new rock and roll hairstyle closer to the side of Pat Benatar, and a little farther away from Whitesnake. Enter mad guitar. Yeah.

August

Every leaf shakes the light again,
begins to talk...

Cicadas
have found
their August voice.

Surprisingly lightly
everyone lets go:
ripe now, all we've
sung into being
since before the leaves...

-Megan Chaskey (1994)

Take me Home...

One of the best things about country roads is the surprises they hold. And in the summer especially, they make no secret about their magic- the wildflowers nod along their shoulders, the sweet churches appear around their curves, the cows doze in the shade of the trees that are left in surrounding fields like gifts. They are wondrous in their beauty- mostly because they seem so oblivious to it. We always exclaim at how one could choose nearly any three turns off of the highway and wind up somewhere that takes our breath away.

But, yesterday we had a mission. Casey and I were going to visit the most honorable Hyla Brook Farm- home of native Virginia plant landscaping. They are open only once a month, when they have demonstrations. Yesterday was the Perenial Propagation open house- we were both free, and off we went. We arrived to a bunch of people standing around a table, moving soil around. I don't know what we expected, maybe a lecture? A tour? Noooo- this was even better. So, like kids in a candy store, (or maybe more like pigs in mud), we elbowed our way through to the table and started stirring. We cut and rooted three different kinds of asters, goldenrod, and monarda (the one Earl Grey Tea comes from). We divided a groundcover called Green and Gold, and sowed seeds for coreopsis, echinacea, and campanula. We got to keep them all!! I think I was actually dancing I was so excited. (Plus, I only cut myself once.)

Anyway, here's to country roads and their many gifts. And to Casey, who is willing to drive them.