• Lyrical abstraction

    From Wikipedia: Abstract impressionism (closely related to lyrical abstraction) is a type of abstract painting (not to be confused with abstract expressionism) where small brushstrokes or application with a palette knife build and structure larger surface areas.

    James Lechay called himself an abstract impressionist. Rose, his wife was his most painted subject. They lived in a simple, small house on the only hill in Wellfleet overlooking the bay. I've written about him a couple of times before; before moving to the outer Cape when that idea seemed like a crazy, impossible, beautiful dream. Before, when Thomas and I were trapped in the city, in the race. 

    But now? Thomas and I are here. There. The outer Cape. Now, to help fill in winter cash flow gaps that a seasonal business can't, I work for James Lechay's granddaughter, prepping the house for the flurry of renters that will sweep through this spring and summer. I've spent a lot of time over there the past couple of weeks. Alone, but with some really lovely company watching me over my shoulder. 

    Yeah, it's pretty much a dream. 

  • February nesting.

    The snow has finally come; a blanket pulled up snug & tight over the landscape, tucking us into our houses. It is officially time to nest. Or make pasta from scratch. 

    On my to-do list since October or so, my belly has eagerly been waiting for this day. So I hopped on over to Angela's house to finally make it happen. 

    We used this recipe from Food52, combining one part semolina to two parts all-purpose flour, and using all four of our hands to keep the eggs inside the well.  While the dough rested, Angela made us an easy San Marzano sauce with butter and onion, nothing else. 

    Next step: we cranked the dough through a pasta machine until nice & thin, then through an attachment that sliced the dough into noodles. We dropped the nests into boiling water to cook and after a few minutes, wa-lah. 

    The next pasta on deck? Squid ink! 

    Garden planning is in the works as well. More grass will be turned into growing space, more seeds will go in the ground, more good things to come. 

  • Off to a start.

    Off to a start.

    Well, here we are, 2017. I'm not so sure how I feel about you so far, considering the current political state. But I'm hopeful the energy of the world's disapproval can be channeled into changing things. 

    In contrast, things are great in the bubble. The cape is on fire this time of year. Quiet and peaceful. Almost lonely, but not quite that sad. 

    Meanwhile, in my brain, summer is in the works. Market planning has begun, along with plans for a pretty special, exciting, awesome collaboration for the spring/summer season. Stay tuned.

  • Asleep, awake.

    January is here, and we're in it: resolutions, organizing, reevaluating. We look at things in a new light, then the snow comes and that light changes yet again. 

    In winter, we sleep, we wake, we repeat. The long list of To-Do's and I-Hope's is made. The long wait for spring starts now. 

    From my To-Do/I-Hope list:

    1. A new home for my reindeer fern. This little guy came home with me in a pot about 4 years ago. Lately, he was getting a little droopy and the fronds were starting to yellow, so I mounted him on this slab of cedar using some small tack nails, fishing line, and sphagnum moss. Reindeer ferns grow off tree trunks and branches in the wild, taking water and nutrients in through their leaves, similar to air far, so good for this guy. 

    2. More outside time in the winter.

    3. Moon as my guide

    4. Start early: whether it's getting the fire going, or the day on its way. 

    5. Enjoy this. Because once spring is here, downtime does not exist. 

    6. Bake more bread. (Recipe soon!) 

    7. Share. 

  • New year things and new dreams about the garden.

    New year things and new dreams about the garden.

    It has begun. Seed catalogs are arriving, pages are bookmarked, lists are made. Whether it's in the garden, or around the house I've got a checklist to mark off. To organize, I've created a monthly planting calendar using the moon phase/sign to help me decide when to do what: when is the best time to start lemon balm seedlings? when should I finally can those beach plums in the freezer? when should I give the houseplants a really good drink?

    Each month I'll be sharing this plan on the site. Stay tuned