homestead poetry and recipes
While stepping onRead More
carefully placed stones
on an errand
in the garden
of my hours,
my eyes scour
either side of the path,
spotting weeds
and winter chores
waiting for me.
Sometimes a surprise,
like strawberry flowers
for Christmas.
It would be nice if I could smile sweetly, or tilt to one hip, or whisper promises to this pile of dirt to get itself in the bed of the garden cart, and then remove itself again onto my strawberry bed… but it ain’t happening. There’s a shovel in the shed with my name on it.
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I once read a description of the landscape before New York City was an idea. I don’t remember the source or the author, but have always remembered the description of strawberry fields. The author claimed that Manhattan could have been described as strawberry fields forever. …
Read MoreThe Fire in Heaven cooks up a fine feast. Flowers face the brilliance that reveals me and makes a mirror of Earth.
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I don’t know why but growing food works as eye candy too.
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Onion chives, green tomatoes, jalapeños,tarragon, strawberries, dried jalapeño and banana peppers, banana peppers, poblano peppers, bell peppers, fresh figs
Food comes from flowers, reason enough to love them. It is no superficial relationship that we have with these beauties. But beauty helps doesn’t it?
Read MoreI like living in the upstate of South Carolina. We get four seasons, but winter is mild. It can be drab though. Our mostly hardwood trees just look grey and naked and forlorn in the winter time. We had a warmish weekend, and I stepped …
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