it's all under the surface

on the way to work

A change of pace for today's commute, I drove in through the still a bit rural Woodinville area. There were vineyards and horses and poplars that were easy on the eyes. Every "traffic jam" was accompanied by a beautiful view.

Also, strawberries are ripening:

on cooking...

"Bad cooks - and an utter lack of reason in the kitchen - have delayed human development longest and impaired it most." -Frederick Neitchsze

I have renewed my interest in cooking. In the last few weeks I've poached salmon, brined chicken, prepared quinoa and tabouleh, brussels sprouts with potatoes and shallots, along with a few more mundane meals.

Our garden is almost fully planted this spring; strawberries join spinach and radishes, salad greens sit by the asparagus and artichokes, we are waiting on carrots and potatoes and will work through the rest of the season to get our fall crops in.

strawberries and currants

and a new flower bed

Easter's on it's way

This last year has shut my mouth - such complex engagements and so much to do every day. It's been busy, tricksy - sadness has equalled happiness.

These seem like tough times, but I think that's perspective instead of reality. I haven't found my footing yet. I expect to.

I am grateful for these days, even though the poetry of the sky seems so distant. Happy to be here, even though it feels like a struggle to stick to my plans.

I'm sure I'll find my voice soon. For now, there's this:

The Moment

The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,

is the same moment when the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.

No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.

Margaret Atwood

Jema xo

Jema in bed,
originally uploaded by Lilbenne.

Jema got sick last week and even though we did all we could to help her out, in the end she took one last trip to the vet.

Such a lovely cat - I feel so lucky to have known her!