Thank you

The secret of enthusiasm is remarkably simple:

live in a state of appreciation

Brahma Kumaris

Mind your peas

Food memories are precious to me. My mother loved peas, so in the springtime, she brought large paper bags full of pea pods, and we sat together on the front stoop shelling peas-- that delicious tactile experience of popping open the pod, unzipping its full length, and tipping the plump green peas into a bowl.

In the summertime we shucked corn together, a much messier and more tedious occupation, where we sat on either side of the large bag where all the husks and silks went, picking the illusive strands out from between the kernels. I'm not sure, but I think she loved Silver Queen the best, a tasty pure white corn. The fact that it wasn't always as good as it could be made the times it was ideal extra special. Corn, peaches and pears are all risky-- they can be so delicious, so perfectly plump and juicy that you can't get your eyes open for savoring each bite-- or so mealy, you want to spit them out. Worth the gamble for the possibility of perfect pleasure.

Slow food is a new term, but that's how I learned things. Peeling, shucking, simmering, stirring, smelling, tasting... and all those memories are there for me now that my mother is gone. The spring brings the peas and the anniversary of her passing. It will possibly never get any easier? But I buy the peas, shell the peas, and remember those companionable times with my strong, beautiful, energetic mother.

The Principles of Uncertainty

You cannot imagine the extraordinary experience of this book of paintings, words and photographs. (Sarah, you are going to FLIP if you have not seen this book yet!)

On May the 3rd 2006 Maria Kalman writes:

How can I Tell you Everything that is in My Heart.
Impossible to Begin. Enough. No. Begin

And suddenly the pages fill with paintings of Spinoza, Pavlov's dog, ladies hats and impossible hairdos, Shakespeare's ruff, a red-footed pigeon, remarkable packages, tassels on curtains, glistening pastries and people on the gray streets dressed in sartorial splendor. The range of what people care about spreads before you in dazzling, almost bewildering profusion. And underneath it all is a sweetness--Kalman's discerning, kindly artist's eye, recording the fleeting passage of lives.

There is a painting of the bare branches of a tree, and the words:

WE SEE TREES.

WHAT MORE DO
WE NEED?

Well put.

A Mild Mid-Winter Day

A mild, mid-winter day
soft on my skin
as I walk home
in the late afternoon
grateful
for this moment
and this
and this