Garden

This beautiful green chameleon is the first creature I captured with my new camera, a present from G who is leaving Antigua early today to shoot a job in the Philippines, Vietnam and Indonesia. Although my new toy hardly makes up for losing my better half for a couple of weeks, it will prove a welcome distraction. The food here is not much to write home about, though we did enjoy dinner on the beach last night, including a delicious chowder made with local shrimp, lobster, clams and fish. Earlier in the day we'd seen a haul of a couple of big, square-headed, glistening yellow mahi mahi, but there was none of the simple and fresh ceviche you might hope for. Still, I can't complain, when the days consist of sunning, napping, reading, hammocking and sipping piña coladas. (Note to self: must perfect this drink at home this summer without that noxious, soapy Coco Lopez). And the nights consist of family dinners, rum-&-tonics with extra lime, moon-gazing, more reading and the beautiful music of tree frogs.
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The marshy area in the woods behind our house is bursting with the sounds (and occasional sights) of new life. The rains and melting snow have united in large vernal pools that are the breeding ground for frogs and salamanders. You can hear their trilling and chuckling, great crowds of them creating a cacophany that we once took for an enormous flock of geese. When you draw near, they all go silent of course, so a stealthy approach is essential. We did scare a couple of ducks who took off, leaving behind a lavish breakfast buffet of bugs and water creatures. Here's a quick visual tour of some of the natural wonders we came across yesterday morning.
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I don't care that there's snow on the ground and that more is predicted for tomorrow, I know what I saw this weekend, and I'm not backing down from thoughts of spring. I stepped out onto the front patio on Saturday night and basked in the glow of the super perigree moon, a rare sight that happens only every 18 years or so, when the moon is about 31,000 miles closer to Earth. On Saturday it was not only closer, but totally full, and about 14% bigger and 30% brighter than normal. It shed its monstrously beautiful silver light on me and I asked for its blessing, inspiration and guidance. Kooky? Perhaps. But that day, in honor of the equinox and this moon, G and I had already gone over to our new property in Forestburgh and had a little ceremony to bless the land and imbue it with good intentions. We have such high hopes; it felt good to say them out loud with the waterfall across the lake roaring in the distance and woodpeckers flitting high above in the trees.
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My hemp sprouting bags arrived this week, so I wanted to give you a little update on the whole sprouting project. I ordered two bags, plus dried green peas, broccoli seeds and sunflower seeds, from the good people at Raw Guru. They say hemp breathes and dries even better than cotton or linen, and is naturally antibiotic, so it's the perfect environment for sprouting. That website is a real rabbit hole for me, I can get lost for way too long poring over dehydrators and sprouters and raw agave and virgin coconut oil...yet another resource from which I can obsessively stock the larder. Anyhoo, I "sterilized" the bags per the instructions by dousing them with boiling water and then, after soaking a cup of peas and a couple of tablespoons of broccoli seeds in two clean jars filled with water for about 6 hours, I poured them into the bags. And there they hang.
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It's day 7 of my juice fast. The simple act of taking food out of the equation can be hugely transformative. Our relationship to eating tends to be very complex, because it provides not only nourishment but comfort, sensual pleasure and perhaps a buffer to shield us from some of our deepest feelings. One thing I grapple with is the herpes virus that I have carried in my body since 1985. During that time it has been more and less active, but seems to have migrated now to reside in my sacrum, a very vulnerable spot indeed. Os sacrum is Latin for "the seat of the soul." This area seems to have become very congested for me, and I sense that lower back pain, writing blocks and deep fears are all lodged here. On day 3 of my fast, after a couple of dull headaches, including one that woke me in the night, and a surge of the virus in my system, I began to feel like all my defenses and resources were falling away. I slipped back into a pattern of self-doubt and recrimination, where I relive the life-long pain of feeling like a disappointment to my parents. I also felt very isolated and out of my element. This was probably exacerbated by the fact that our week-long bathroom renovation is now in its frustrating and enraging fourth week, and we are still availing ourselves of the incredible hospitality of our dear friend who has lent us his house at Beaver Dam.
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Has the light appeared at the end of the tunnel? The days are definitely getting longer. Daylight savings is right around the corner. And soon, delicate shoots and buds will begin to festoon the skeletal branches of winter. But I've got the blues, baby, and I'm dancing as fast as I can to shake them from my weary bones. On mornings like this, the sun on my face is a balm, a promise of better days to come. I thank my stars for the roof over my head and the love of a good man, but there is a heaviness in my soul that, like a magnet, seems to dredge up all the pain and bitter disappointments I have ever known.

This, too, shall pass. Because everything always does. I have no child upon whose steady growth to mark the passage of time, but the ever-changing seasons tell it all. The snowdrifts out my window will give way to Queen Anne's lace and monkeyweed, Japanese beetles will streak by in a flash of iridescence, and I will crush tomato leaves between my dirty fingers and inhale the smell of summer. In the meantime, I will harness the raw energy of the sun, chewing and swallowing it in the form of life-giving sprouts.
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This past weekend G and I attended a workshop about raising chickens. It's something we've been daydreaming about for a while, because we've long enjoyed the delicious eggs from River Brook Farm. And because we could really use the poop to fertilize our garden. So we signed up to learn about this ancient enterprise from Mark and Barbara Laino at Midsummer Farm in Warwick. This amazing couple is into organic, sustainable farming; they grow vegetables and herbs, raise animals, and hold down full-time jobs. Barbara is also a holistic nutritionist, and I was thrilled to see several pages of egg recipes from Nourishing Traditions (one of my bibles) in the packet they send home with you.

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I am thankful for my loving husband, Titi, family, friendship, a cozy home, freedom, goat cheese, Bach, heirloom tomatoes, hammocks, squirrels, deer, blue jays, black bear, foxes, snakes, spiders, animals in general, ferns, our vegetable garden, walnuts, the 4 Agreements (don't make assumptions, be impeccable with your word, don't take things personally, always do your best), Philip Roth, Coetzee, Alice Munro, Patricia Highsmith, technology, craftsmanship, artists, Pablo Neruda, Joni Mitchell, Maria Callas, Nick Drake, Elvis Costello, Silvio Rodriguez, Irving Penn, Andy Goldsworthy, Velazquez, Goya, Frida Kahlo, traveling, India, Mexico, Venice, Morocco, Madrid, San Sebastian, Iceland, new challenges, old traditions, curiosity, my tastebuds, bourbon, brown sugar, cardamom, lavender, geranium, rosemary, herbs and flowers, fragrance, essential oils, frankincense, sandalwood, myrrh, grapefruit, lemon, yuzu, noodles, tempura, cork, leather, glass, wood, stone, slate, wool, cashmere, silk, sequins, embroidery, Marni, Prada, Jil Sander, Rick Owens, Comme des Garçons, gratins, raw milk, cows, grass, sunrise over the mountain, sunset over the lake, collaboration, allies, support, confidence, children, curiosity, humor, laughing, giggling, chortling, spices, curry, coconut, ice cream, sorbet, popsicles, sneezing, caramel, chocolate, nougat, youth, old age, middle age, grey hair, any hair at all, strength, resilience, courage, kale, quinoa, low cholesterol, high standards, movies, books, Momofuku, Thomas Keller, Wylie Dufresne, Alice Waters, Ferran Adria, Arzak, MFK Fisher, Laurie Colwin, Suzanne Goin, Los Angeles, AOC, Lucques, Campanile, La Brea Bakery, Fairway, Chelsea Market, Dickson's, Lucy's Whey, Eataly, Union Square farmers market, Chinatown, dim sum, Mitsuwa, tofu skin, fresh fish, pickled mussels, pickles in general, flamenco, tapas, molecular gastronomy, textiles, ikat, bargello, velvet, tie dye, street food, fresh potato chips, ethnic markets, theater, poetry, wine, sherry, port, ginger, fields, grains, purple rice, wild rice, risotto, forests, sequoias, silver birch, pine cones, orchids, peonies, ranunculus, naps, meditation, yoga, hiking, sweating, swearing, discipline, sex, romance, loyalty, long walks on the beach, margaritas, rainstorms, kidding!, driftwood, mobiles, driving, convertibles, OH MY GOD I COULD GO ON FOREVER!!! What I'm trying to say is that I am grateful for life and all the complexities and emotions and smells and tastes and people and things it delivers on a regular and generous basis. I am grateful for you, readers, who so kindly share it all with me. I wish you all the contentment that comes from wanting what you have.

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Ever since I ate the carrot-and-avocado salad at ABC Kitchen, Jean-Georges Vongerichten's new Manhattan bastion of "farm-to-table" cuisine, I've rekindled my passion for this most common root vegetable. Fear not, I will soon be posting my interpretation of this salad, which involves coating the carrots in a light film of cumin, chile and lemon juice before roasting them to tender perfection. It's truly extraordinary how they become almost meaty. But this is about another carrot salad. It's not wholly unlike the one you'll be presented with at virtually every meal in Morocco, though that tends to be sweeter, more cumin-intensive and full of raisins. This carrot salad is bright with mint and cilantro and spiked with harissa, a wonderfully complex North African spice paste you can find in specialty grocers or online. Or you can whip up a batch yourself; it keeps for ages in the fridge. Either way, the point it to make this salad soon as it will become a new favorite.
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