Archives for January 2016

butterhead salad with roasted grapefruit citronette

www.rootingthesun.com

on a given winter morning i am apt to embrace the bleakness for what it’s worth. the cold air is clear and direct. there is a certain decisiveness to everybody’s actions. the words that are spoken are intentional and contain the gravity of the humbling weather that surrounds us. the trees are brittle, the rivers cracked. our hearts are heavy, laden with thick soups and layers of clothing. even the hills appear rigid, as if poured concrete. but together we know that death is necessary for life to return again. and so, for what it’s worth, i reconcile love with the winter.

…

cilantro parsnip gnocchi with carrot romesco sauce

www.rootingthesun.com

blurry eyes into focus, birds onto wing, non-believers into believing fools, snow melt. losing your coat, looking for your heavy coat, putting on your light coat, wait it isn’t cold today. leaving the door open but questioning the breeze. gray days, blue days, sun is still hot days, snow-blind days. strangers in the alley, kids skating on the pond, deer hooves in town. frozen windowsill, frozen rosemary, cactus thriving. sitting on the highest hill and counting on the seconds of light gained every day.

…

the sweetest notes are milked even from the mutest winter days. one of the greatest pleasures withdrawn from the season’s garden is surely the patient methodry of preservation. to, in essence, extend the harvest to the middle of a dreary white day is enough to excuse the pallid horizons that stretch for miles and end nowhere. humble bags and jars of dried and canned tomatoes, delicious punches of red, asking (begging) for interpretation. black winter crows hanging densely in the sky, crimson hints of late summer resting on the counter.

…

on winter and soup: red chard wild rice soup with paprika parsley cracker-bread

it is a fool’s (my) attempt to circumvent the looming and catastrophic weekend temperatures that will never delay nor dissipate such realities. often i shrug myself into the space between acceptance and negligence and call it la la land (a real location) – a kind of elated delirium where harshness is suspended but so is progress. what does all this mean? it’s cold as hell and there’s no escape.

…

a meal of braised leeks, white beans, black olives & dilled breadcrumbs

humbled by the wind when it blows back in the breath i’m trying to release. a blustery day in january, when the flatness of the surrounding environment is accentuated by a hectic sermon of elemental fuss and furrow. even the oldest trees sway. even the oldest feelings are surfaced and called back into existence. the ground is wet with the circumstance of everlasting snow-melt and compacted salty ice. my cheeks are a salty pallet of tears, tempted by the whistling energy we call windy. inspiration nudges itself through a frozen tundra of white – three small baby leeks hanging in the balance between the only visible life and their more expected demise. if i hold my breath the wind can’t take it away.

…

Archives for January 2016

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: