WHAT? A WEEK OF 90 DEGREE DAYS BEFORE WE EVEN HIT SUMMER SOLSTICE? ARRRRGGGH! OKAY, THAT DOES IT: IT’S EARLY IN THE SEASON FOR ME DO MY ANNUAL POST OF MY BLISSFULLY CHILL CUCUMBER-GREEN GRAPE SOUP RECIPE, BUT, HAVING JUST MADE THE FIRST GALLON OF WHAT WILL BE MANY GALLONS BETWEEN NOW AND FALL… I MUST. IT’S EASY TO MAKE,… Read More
PERFECT HEIGHT-OF-SUMMER VEGETABLE RECIPES THE-TIME-IS-JUST-RIGHT-FOR: PANDEMIC PANTRY PLEASURES
— a pandemic pantry post — 8 WAYS TO DELIGHT IN SUMMER & FALL’S FRUITS AND VEGETABLES; YES, EVEN (ESPECIALLY) NOW I have been thinking a lot this year about something Annie Dillard wrote: “How we live our days is how we live our lives.” For reasons you know as well as I do, these, the days of 2020, have… Read More
elegy for a tomatillo … and Steve Jobs
We planned to go for a walk at twilight tonight, David and I, but when we stepped outside the dusk was chillier than we'd anticipated. "I wonder if I should go check the forecast," he said. "Yeah, you should," I said, "because if it's going to get below freezing we probably need to do some harvesting." He went back inside,… Read More
Aunt Dot & the Splendid Sunflowers
When I came to 410 East 57th Street that night, it was already dark, but not late. Early winter, then, it must have been, maybe about 7:30 or 8:00. A Sunday evening. Aunt Dot, then 95 or 96, was seated facing into the living room, in one of the two 50’s-era Danish modern recliner chairs (blonde wood, cushions covered in… Read More
creative discontent: lasting father-wit, & a writer/innkeeper’s ex-files
I used to be an innkeeper. I used to be a daughter with a living father. I am neither of these things now. Yet both reside within me. Both come into my present life at unexpected times. They did today, a moist, misty day, one in which I felt slightly out-of-sorts. Perhaps this very out-of-sortness is what brought to the… Read More
letting an invitation become personally seismic: how I began to grow up
Greetings, dear blog-readers! May 1, 2009, is the one-year anniversary of "nothing is wasted on the writer", and I thank you, thank you for your generous responses. I'm working on an anniversary post: it also happens to be the one-year anniversary of when I stopped using credit cards, as well as the general time of year I begin getting in… Read More
gills, guilt, garden… camera, catbox, cauliflower, cosmos
Okay, this isn’t the promised Part 3 of my meditations on being in Unity, New Hampshire, with Hillary and Barack back at the end of June, which, God knows, is by now a yuga in the timing of political dialog today… Lord, I may never write part three at this rate, just incorporate the ideas into something else. At any… Read More
in pursuit of purslane; political prayer
I know, I know… CD gets all gung-ho on blogging and then drops off the face of the earth. Why? A September book deadline, a July article deadline, and, with David, working on the most ambitious, satisfying, beautiful vegetable garden I have ever grown, but … Unity, New Hampshire & the writing process But that’s not why I’ve been so… Read More
identity gumbo
What does it matter if we know, or tell, our personal stories? I wrote, on June 9 post, about buying a lungwort plant at the annual plant sale for the Putney Library, and the extra pleasure that small bit of history gives me each year when it blooms. I love getting plants in such ways, rather than from a nursery…. Read More
narrative flowers, garden blues (Houseman, Hopkins, on harmony)
The moment: Saturday afternoon, May 7, 2008, 2:11 pm. The place: a house on the top of a hill, not far from the small town of Saxtons River, Vermont. The view: a southeast facing window in which a vividly green meadow, exclamation-marked with a stand of tall silver-white birches, is framed first by woods, then sinuous curve after curve of… Read More
Ohhhhhhh-krahoma: eat/be eaten, “write naked” , vegetable chameleons
Ohhhhh-krahoma! (Or, the color purple). On Thursday I found actual okra plants, starts, seedlings! (If this doesn’t seem like big news to you , please go back and read the post for May 27). So maybe I will get some honest-to-goodness non "curiosity" okra from my very own garden this year. I’m still going to plant my okra seeds, though,… Read More
Playing Scrabble with the dead, feasting at the Brattleboro Farmers Market (with the very much alive)
The other day, Saturday, I’m driving down the unpaved road which leads from from my home at the top of the down to Westminster West Road. I’m with Traca Savadago, my "pan pal" and all-around buddy. She’s a friend in the meet and instantly feel you’ve known each other a long time category, though we’ve actually only known each other… Read More