Food To Love In Turkey

June 16, 2009

So many kabobs and grilled vegetables, so many glasses of tea with two sugar cubes, so many honey soaked desserts. We savored every mouthful. What is not to love? Turkish food is wholesome. Their tea is like rocket fuel. Their sweets are divine. When can we return?IMG_0052


Dinner at Karen’s

March 1, 2009



January 4, 2008


The house I live in was built in 1948 and the bathrooms have never been updated. They are small and demand many compromises and I often wonder how the original family functioned in these spaces. I’ve never figured out how to remodel either of these bathrooms and  finally realized that I’ll not ever make more than cosmetic changes.

The good thing about the antiquated master bathroom? Afternoon light in the space is stunning. This is what I saw recently as I stepped out of the shower. Beautiful.

Luisa in the Garden

December 28, 2007

We decided to take photographs in the garden. This image of Luisa feels beautifully exotic and she wears this freeform crochet capelet well. Luisa wears other capelets and neck cuffs, also with great flair, at

My crochet hook is busy with yet more work and I just received another box of yarns, hand spun and dyed, from that farm in New Hampshire. What joy to spread them across a table and mix and match.

Silbury Hill

December 16, 2007

I remember my visit to Silbury Hill in Wiltshire as an enchanted time. Many years ago in early December, along the highway between London and Bath, we came upon this Neolithic chalk mound built thousands of years ago over an underground spring and covered with soft green grass.

Perhaps you can see Elizabeth, a tiny stick figure, marching up the spiral pathway and standing on the top of this prehistoric monument to the Great Goddess. I’d fallen behind to search for a woolen neck scarf, or perhaps the universe had simply given me the opportunity to capture Elizabeth on film.

The day was bright blue, the moon still high in the sky. After I arrived at the top of this ancient harvest hill and she and I were sitting together in the tall grass, we discovered that we were both menstruating which seemed entirely fitting as we explored this ancient site of the Great Goddess.

As for that woolen scarf – I found it later at the very bottom of Silbury Hill on a fence post. It had been loaned to me by a male friend and so I came to believe that the energy of this very cosmic womanly space accounted for the scarf’s temporary disappearance.

And another thing about Silbury Hill – my photos of that sacred place are out of focus, as if the very energy and vibrations of the place affected not only our bodies and perhaps our very souls, but my camera as well. This little series of nine images (the magic grid of nine) begins to dim and soften every time that I attempt to make it larger.

The memories of this day touch me still – a spiral walk up and around a mound of chalk with the moon overhead and blood between our legs.

Thanksgiving is a time when families eat together. It’s the one holiday that is all about folks gathered around the table, giving thanks for their blessings and the special and familiar foods served on this day. Here are a few of the dishes I shared this Thanksgiving with my daughter Mary B and Queta. They include a scumptious marionberry cobbler, Queta’s scrambled eggs with chopped parsley and cheese, a packet of Oregon sweet potato fries, fresh red cabbage from their garden, Mary B’s pear galette and Thanksgiving dinner itself.

Each delicious and all a blessing.


Sunrise, Sunset, Sunrise

November 29, 2007


We were on the Oregon coast for just two nights. Three times we stood on the beach watching the western sky. Reflections of the first dawn were luminous on both sky and water, the palest of peach, the softest of grays. Waves were froth of endless tulle. Words do not compare with the seeing.


Late in the day we walked to the beach again and never have I seen such a sharp line of crimson etched at the horizon in those minutes just before dark. The sun set at the far end of the beach; the red line spanned the whole horizon. The tide was out, leaving a beach with scattered stones. There was no froth of tulle dancing in apricot light.


A second morning walk on the beach offered only the briefest moment of blue with a wash of pink. Then the sky turned gray and morning light came without shine or color.