wrapped in rainbows

 "i have been in sorrow's kitchen and licked out all the pots. 

then i have stood on the peaky mountain 

wrapped in rainbows, 

with a harp and sword in my hands."
- zora neale hurston

 a new girl.

and fragrant late spring as

neighboring linden trees explode

with lime blossoms -

so sweet and green

they make the most soothing

tea liquor.

much needed sips of sanity

in the middle of a delightfully full house.

friends from all over the world

crashing in the spare room

and the couch

and on the studio floor

as we prepare

for our dear friends' wedding feast.

insanity of the most

wonderful kind.

excuse my absence from e-space,

until the joy-filled chaos

subsides.

 lime blossom tea-scented kisses

and a lovely weekend to you,

my friends!

spring. space.

'everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.'

- rainer maria rilke

'it's spring fever. that is what the name of it is. and when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you *do* want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!'

- mark twain

 

 grateful.  for oh so many things.

sunshine pouring through wide open windows.

stolen apple blossoms on my table.

new beginnings. 

outpouring of life.

(even the snakes coming out to play)

most of all

this space.

to be

and to create from.

and you,

this crazy beautiful family

to share the journey with.

i propose a toast.

to yes!

 

home, at last

a gray morning

drenched

with the joy

of waking up

to a new day

at home.

the smell of fresh paint

says hello

and good morning!

bare feet

waking up

to cold floors

guide me

towards the kettle

(always on,

we're home, you see)

eyes not yet ready

to take in

the light.

wood. stone. leather. wool.

the elements breathe in

the calm.

i offer my self space.

a slow morning.

later,

i will slurp miso soup

from a clay bowl

and tackle the last

of the boxes:

my studio.

(i always save the best

for last)

tell me,

dear soul,

what is home

to you?

try this at home: beet & avocado salad

it's simple.  to put out good stuff, you have to first put good stuff in.  

so i breathe in the ocean.  drink in the silence.  eat up the words. 

so i glean the wisdom. 

feed my imagination.

but i know it is truly well

with my soul

when i can taste it. 

so i make salads.  

simplicity & decadence are not mutually exclusive.

fresh.  comforting.

joyful.  tender. 

juicy.  

sensual. 

it comes out in the work. 

in the living.

when i eat well, i love well.

here is a salad that loves you well. 

it says

even though you had to return

from l.a. 

to chicago

and february endures,

everything is going to be alright.  

this is how you toss it together:

roast whole beets covered in a pan with salt, sugar, a splash of water, and one of vinegar.

in a low oven until tender.  about an hour. 

cool.

toss arugula with salt, pepper, olive oil, balsamic.

top with beet & avocado wedges.  sweet peas.  crumbled feta. 

enjoy the rich, tender, lively goodness.  

give someone a big hug. 

(you will feel a sudden surge of loving kindness)

on fruit and being time

i was supposed to be blogging about art, the creative process, my inspiration. 

perhaps a lovely tutorial, for a snowed in thursday.  

instead i made a fruit salad.  and felt compelled to share the life-altering experience. 

to be fair, i don't believe anybody ever broke open a pomegranate and not been enlightened to the secrets of the universe in the process.

do try this deceptively simple fruit salad at home.

pomegranate.  grapefruit.  banana. 

it will take at least half an hour to prepare.  bloodbath kitchen in the aftermath.  and yet you will have no regrets.  health and deliciousness have rarely met quite as elegantly on your plate before.  it may even erase some of past year's regrets.

but i digress.  this whole thing got me thinking about seasons.  remember i had time on my hands and fruit on my mind.

no fruit tree is expected to bear fruit out of season.  yet we people are expected to do, make, produce, accomplish 'round the clock.  perhaps we should take a clue from the way nature runs it course.

a cherry tree doesn't feel guilty for not making cherries in february. 

perhaps there is a time to bare all.  to let go of all that showed the world who you are.  and to do it with a flamboyant show of color, while you're at it.

a time to feel the storm rather than fight it.

a time to be nourished rather than nourish.

a glorious time to burst with the exuberance of being alive.

indeed, there are few things quite as glorious as a cherry tree in april. 

so slurp up that juice and relish the season you find yourself in.

try this at home: torn radicchio salad

 

super quick, insanely delicious, can-hardly-call-this-a-recipe.

tear a few radicchio leaves, prosciutto, fresh mozzarella and basil on a plate.

add some cubed or balled honeydew.

a drizzle of olive oil and balsamic.

a sprinkle of kosher salt & freshly ground pepper.

try to contain the moans of pleasure from the explosion of awesome happening in your mouth.