Friday, May 30, 2014

Stalking the rhubarb

These rhubarb bushes were planted decades ago by my grandma, and it's real special to see them thrive. 

It's also real special to  walk into the kitchen while mom is mixing together her famous rhubarb coffee cake. Ask anyone in my family and they will tell you that this cake is its own occasion. 

The best way to take care of something is to let it keep doing its thing.

Sunday, May 25, 2014

Storm passing

The wind picked up and the sky turned dark and I thought about heading back.

And then the storm passed over me. 

I wandered through the grass to sit on the old well. Listened to all of those clouds rumbling away and felt, somehow, like I'd been given more time.

Friday, May 23, 2014


Now that it's finally warm enough to drink iced coffee and sit by open windows, the windowsill has again become my table and my chair.

Sunday, May 18, 2014

Friday, May 16, 2014

Apricot blossoms

Carrying apricot blossoms down the sidewalk makes all kinds of people look back at you and smile.

First, second & last photo by Maggie Simpson

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Barn light

Barn light is unlike any other light I know. It hits you like a memory, only to evade you again. 

Friday, May 9, 2014

A pinch and a dash

This recipe comes via Beth Kirby, who reminds that there's more to a cinnamon roll than cinnamon. Adding a few spoonfuls of rose water lent a subtle flavour to the dough that now has me wanting to try it in many other things. 

These taste best straight out of the oven, with warm icing running down the side of your hand and a group of friends that are only too happy to share with you. 

Sunday, May 4, 2014

Train travel

The train doesn't stop here anymore. Windows are boarded, the road has disappeared. Blown shingles and bent rails edge the unkept garden. 

To come here is to go someplace, though I'm not sure where. 

I hurry ahead faster than the train […] This way, for a fraction of a second, I'll see you approaching again. 

                - John Berger