It’s apple season on the Island of Apples. Branches are bending with the weight of the glorious fruit, the air of the orchards sweetened with apple scent. Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, and all that. We are deep into autumn now.
Our lone apple tree produced no fruit this year. No tubs are waiting to be filled, and I’m on the hunt for apples to knead into my bread dough.… Continue reading
Early August is the beginning of summer mellowness. Time slows, the swallows swoop, the summer lawns hiss and whisper. The full-fledged season now stretches before us. It lasts only a few weeks, but in the end, it will seem like months.
Upbeat July fades away like an old postcard; the preparation and rush to the beaches and road-trip holidays, lawn furniture and picnic hampers loaded in the trunk.… Continue reading
Most days, making bread happens by rote, with a tight schedule of measuring, mixing, shaping, and baking. My mind can be tranquil while my hands are a blur, punching and kneading the dough. Or slicing off chunks with the bench knife, balancing them on the weigh scale, and turning them into sensuous rounds.
Not much distracts me from this sort of reverie.… Continue reading
What will you have for breakfast this Thursday, June 16? Anything special?
I’ll probably have a slice of toasted Seed Feast loaf from last week’s bake with a smear of peanut butter and pour-over coffee. I’ll raise my first steaming cup to Jennifer and wish her a happy Bloomsday.… Continue reading
I love poetry because it can open spaces inside me that are so hidden I might not know they are there. A word, a line, a rhyme can cast a light on something that could make me think, why have I been so oblivious to that?… Continue reading