Our family way of life is usually quite spontaneous. Our plans will have edges that keep us together but everything in between stays loose. Who knows what you’ll see, smell, hear or taste if everything isn’t charted out? Those who accompany us either love it …
Recently, I was fortunate enough to be back in Istanbul after a twenty-five year absence. Some things had changed but, for the most part, it was as stunning as it had ever been. In addition to blue glass amulets to replace my original one broken …
We’re one of those families. We love bread. I mean we love it. For a few years before the pandemic, my husband baked four beautiful loaves every week. Gosh, you should see the smile on my face as I write that sentence.
As everyone and their puppy started making sourdough starters and artful focaccia during lockdown, the staple ingredients became harder to come by. For a while, he continued to bake but eventually our waists couldn’t keep up as we hit the starchy spot: the ratio of bread consumption to exercise tipped more heavily in bread’s favor…
It’s been two years since he doffed his baker’s apron and pulled out the requisite paniers, razor, peel, and whatnot. I sure do miss it.
While I was at the loveliest birthday dinner with our brand-new friends we had met just four days earlier, I was asked what it felt like to call America home. Behind the question was the horrible legacy of slavery and the possibility of rootlessness. “Do …
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 you from Robben Island in South Africa. It starts with this paved and shrubby patch of land where the guide describes the trees planted by Europeans as takers of fresh water.
I am on the notorious island where people were held as prisoners over more than 350 years as offenders, lepers, and political dissidents. Its most famous one, Nelson Mandela, became the first democratically-elected president of this beautiful country four years after his release.
My guide, a political prisoner himself for 16 years, describes the ingenious ways that they communicated with other activists despite the severe consequences. We will find a way.
This visit is haunting, somber, and oh so quiet. We are rapt in anticipation of what he’ll share next. Everywhere is gray, barn-white, and faint blue.
And then we enter the yard where prisoners sat on the ground spaced apart to avoid communication. Here, we learn how President Mandela wrote passages of his book, Long Walk to Freedom, under and near a grapevine. With the help of other prisoners, he’d hide the passages and as a group, they’d all protect the scraps of paper to be stitched together years later. A We find a way.
“This courtyard did not exist when we arrived here. We created it. This court was for tennis, volley ball and tennikoit. The garden had grapes, peaches, vegetables and flowers. It was planted by Elias Motswaledi.”
Wilton Mkwayi
We find a way.
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 …
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 …
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 heroes, heroines, and villains getting their just desserts. It wasn’t until I read some of the Brothers Grimm stories did I see the other side.
When the sweet apple turns bitter.
If you read “PERSEPHONE, THE RELUCTANT QUEEN”, you know that we’re fascinated by that potent anise-flavored elixir, absinthe. Maybe it’s the mystique or dangerous reputation. Maybe it’s the color. Or it’s the taste. We’re captivated. There’s something exhilarating about it— it’s a green potion.
New Year’s Eve we enjoyed the creamy delight, panna cotta. Imagine a smooth and sweet dessert infused with absinthe and topped with broiled grapefruit and thyme-citrus coulis. Deliriously delicious. Mmmmmm.
Fairies abound.
“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 …
