There's Beauty in the Bellow

I won a Persian rug off eBay. It arrived a week before Hurricane Michael hit the Florida coast -- only 50 miles east of us. As I cleaned up our little house, two truths lay before me in tension. The first is simply this: do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust and mold destroy, where thieves break in and steal, and where hurricanes ravage. The second is that the good man lays up an inheritance for his children's children. My momma has a Persian rug that her grandparents bought through the Sears and Roebuck catalogue when they married. She remembers dancing on that rug as a child, and I danced on that rug ... picking out step patterns by choosing which geometric element to step on next. So I bought a rug from the same region in hopes that my children and grandchildren will dance on it too. The rug by itself might not be that valuable. But more significantly, I hope that it becomes a tangible reminder of love. My paternal grandmother, although not a...

The royal wedding (or sort-of sub-royal) is old news but I want to add my little 2 cents to the non-gushing side of things. Bishop Michael Curry made quite a stir with his sermon. The Americans have been raving about it. I noticed a line featured on the cover the People special wedding edition. It seems that most of the "love" is simply patriotic fervor because Curry is American. There are plenty of churches in America where similar sermons are given -- perhaps with less flair -- with little publicity. Hillsong, for example. I'm pretty sure that exact sermon gets trotted out every so often. Maybe Bieber finds it inspiring. It should be noted that Bishop Curry smooshed together all the various kinds of love into one amorphous mass. He spun the Song of Songs as puppy love; it had as much depth as a Beatles song but four times as long.  It had little in common with the mighty unquenchable love that Dr. Martin Luther King spoke of. He did happen to mention Jesus. There...

The eye, O priests, is on fire; impressions received by the eye are on fire; and whatever sensation, pleasant, unpleasant, or indifferent, originates in dependence on impressions received by the eye, that also is on fire. ~Buddha Well, first off. This speech by the Buddha has great rhythm. The rhythm sets me on fire. Which he would disapprove of. Secondly, I like the picture that it creates: a world scorching with beauty, music, flavors and colors. Mr. Buddha implies that all this profligate glory is a very bad thing. He forbids getting fired up about anything Think of all the other pictures associated with fire: a face burning with any number of emotions: anger, joy, passion, love; burning eyes, blazing eyes. "Fiery" is often a complementary adjective . . . . except when applied to "pit," of course. Dorothy Sayers said: "If I had found a man to my measure, I would have set a torch to the world." Not to be confused with watching the world burn. You ca...

At Cattle Point. Feather duster worms. You poke them and they shrink back into their tubes. Bread crumb sponge (the green stuff) and pink encrusting algae. Aggragating anemone A little Isopod Barnacles. They were everywhere! Really quite handsome. More anemones, above tide. They've pulled in their tentacles to conserve moisture. Their bodies are very soft and gelatinous. My friend's feet. She finds shoes inconvenient. Well, she did grow up in West Africa where she did everything barefoot! I just couldn't stop taking pictures of the anemones! They were so lovely. They spread out everywhere in whatever wet crevice was availible during the nice low tide. (Nice for us at least.) And then I dropped my camera in a tiny shallow little pool. So I didn't get pictures of the rest of the trip. (The following were taken earlier on.) But I took the battery and memory card out, left it open for a couple days and the camera works just as well as ever--to my great relief! Flotsam a...

Look you Floridians: see that sky? There's nothing in the way. It's like the roof got lifted. No haze of humidity pressing down on you; you just stare up into the sky and it makes you giddy. I still think of this cute spot as my little house, even though I only live in the upstairs apartment. And see the lawn? It's actually green. Rob (downstairs) plowed amd seeded it with the help of his brother-in-law; last year it was a mess of dirt, rocks, and weeds. Yellow crocus. Purple crocus. They are actually a deeper purple than this, but my camera isn't able to capture their intensity. I wish I could take pictures like Georgia O'Keefe painte , but my camera doesn't like getting too intimate with its subjects. Last bits of snow. They're just too fabulous; I can't ignore them. Cooking adventures: tomato soup with lots of spices. Those are soy nuts and cilantro on top. I've been putting soy nuts on everything; they have a lovely toasty-golden flavo...

First, in the crafting department: some valentines. The heart folds into an envelope. And then the mask I made for the school's masquerade ball: For my culinary escapades: Roast turkey. There are no vegetables left in the bottom because I ate them. Onions roasted with turkey, oh . . . . From that turkey came this soup. Egg baked in a corn tortilla. It looks rather like a cabbage (which is after all, a flower). Isn't it pretty? Cranberries cooked with merlot, sugar, and pinch of salt. Soooooo good! Between a chutney and a jam, and good on everything. The cranberries had enough pectin of their own: the texture turned out much better than I thought it would. On oatmeal. On toasted tortillas. I also thinly sliced a sweet potato and baked the slices. The cranberries were an agreeable condiment. My beautiful asparagus! With rice pelof. I also made a red wine sauce which you can't see. It turned out a little too thin (it was actually intended to go over fish) and the rice abso...