I recently had the incredibly good fortune to visit South Africa for a project and I was showered with love letters. At every turn, there was beauty, and I took it all in. I learned, stretched, explored, and rested. And I joyfully tasted.
“To plant a seed, watch it grow, to tend it and then harvest it, offered a simple but enduring satisfaction. The sense of being the custodian of this small patch of earth offered a taste of freedom. NELSON MANDELA This Black Garden Epistle comes to …
Express yourself,
Whatever you do, uh,
Do it good, uh!
We definitely did it good! I’ll start at the end and then make our way back. My mom pulled out one of my favorite plates, plump strawberries framing the center, ready to full of the season’s delights. She created Thanksgiving 2.0 and it was delicious. Especially the cornbread, and the okra, and the beans, greens, tomatoes, and chitlins. And the coleslaw and the bright carrot soufflé.
We took our Atlanta culinary adventure seriously (and joyfully, if that makes sense).
We started at a family favorite, pulling up slowly so that I could catch a glimpse of the pit. This shack-like pit had my mind buzzing and eager for the smoky bits.
And then away from barbecue and then a meander to a place filled with so many memories that a tear always forms when I walk into the place. The VARSITY… . We bundled our beloved chili dogs, fries, rings, and pies and composed a mix from the day’s exploration. We foragers pulled out all of the stops and every box for the mashup of all mashups.
Intentional.
To kick off the new year, my friends at PostScript asked me to be their guest writer for their lovely blog, In the Loop. This month’s theme is coffee but I was encouraged to write about anything so I did both.
If you’re interested in the post, it’s here. Don’t forget the coffee!
Like most people, the fairy tales read to me were the mostly sweet versions. Sure, women were hexed by nefarious enemies, harassed by wicked step-relatives, or resigned to a permanent dormant state with the bite of a crimson apple. Overall, though, they ended with our …
“There’s beauty in the day. There’s beauty in the night.” ~ Claudette Dudley Living a life of wonder seems to be a good bet: an interesting corner, path, neighborhood, town, or city— wonder leads to wandering that often leads to something quite magical. Here’s to …
Ain’t life grand? In the image above, a boy and his bubble are captured by photographer, Marvin E. Newman, in 1950s Chicago. Immediately coming to mind at first glance was the moment of both intention and anticipation: chewing the gum so one can blow a bubble and the feeling as one pushes and blows, defying gravity as it expands. Exhilarating.
Do grownups play with bubbles? Do they ever do it when kids aren’t around?
I’m thinking of bubbles— in this case, the bubbles of egg whites that make glorious meringue and the ones rising to the top of a glass just glistening. That same moment of the ephemeral guides our anticipation. From the moment of the cork’s pop!, it’s a race to consume the nectar before it transforms from bubbly to dissipation. It holds us in the present, encouraging us to celebrate and drink. The bubbles tickle our tongues. The meringue, on the other hand, teases us with its grand architecture of white bubbles (without a trace of yellow yolk that would impede liftoff). For a little while, these bubbles are impossibly stable, easily piled up and shaped into mountains for Baked Alaska or pavlovas.
