locarno

the most beautiful place i have ever been.  if i even think about it i am almost breathless, the night i sat on a balcony in the youth hostel.  the air was so clear and warm and glowing.  at the time,  there was a festival in the center of town, there was dancing. i danced with dozens of people i never met nor spoke the same language with.  the music stayed in my ears till morning.  the alps hugged this sweet little city.  when i looked up, i saw only stars, millions of glimmer bits that winked at me, telling me that they had their own secrets and stories and they knew all of  mine-  they had been watching me.

renewal

It was one of those March days when the sun shines

hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the

 light, and winter in the shade. ~Charles Dickens

checks and short gowns

The Henry Walton 1776 painting "Plucking the Turkey"

companion

tom

back country

sustenance

To make a very good Barley-Gruel.

Of three Ounces of Pearl-barley make a Quart of Barley-water; shift it once or twice, if it is not white; put to it four Ounces of Currants clean pick’d and wash’d; when they are plumpt, pour the Gruel out to cool a little, and beat up the Yolks of three Eggs and put into it, with half a Pint of White-wine, and half a Pint of new thick Cream, the Peel of a Lemon, and as much Sugar as you like; stir it gently over the Fire ‘till ‘tis as thick as Cream. ‘Tis a pretty wholesome Spoon-meat for Suppers.

A Collection of Above Three Hundred Receipts in Cookery, Physick and Surgery
 Mary Kettilby (1724)

mourning

this morning i lost my dove, emmylou.  she helped bring life back into my home.

love

respite

trapped in a snow squall in my drafty nest. lost my train of thought for a bit. ok, a couple weeks. npr on so low i can only hear it when i hold my breath. on the window there is a framed photo of the coast of vinalhaven, maine. my final destination. the cats are unraveling the caning on an old white chair that i found in smithfield, va. i find my mind drifting to random images of two or three bin laundry sinks that would work well along the side of the house as a gardening bench base. i intenionally redirect. to a small resturant in a rural area. maybe it is mine. it's evening, in the summer, and there is a tiny potager garden in front, and white windsors with a bake oven made of stone in the side yard, where i would produce pies, and breads for the amazed guest.