If we were having coffee, mine would be shockingly strong. I need something to wake me up, because I’m emotionally and energetically drained. I would put on my best bright-eyed and bushy-tailed mask, and try to escape my state of mind. Your company would cheer me up, and bring a sincere, unaffected smile to my face. Talking to someone instead of turning my thoughts over endlessly inside my own head would be a welcome change. Read more
All summer long, I stalk my local farmers market for the week’s freshest offerings. I initially recce the aisles, recalling recipes, pairing ingredients in my head, and determining how much produce one person can realistically consume in one week. Some salivating may occur, but I try to restrain myself, lest I look too much like a crazed, hungry predator stalking stationary prey.
When I see a quart of berries or a bushel of peaches, I think of all sorts of delicious baked goods, of course. I love the grandeur of beautifully constructed pies and tarts, and the satisfaction of turning out crisp, flaky pastry from a handful of simple ingredients. But, when temperatures and humidity soar, that pastry is sometimes difficult to achieve. That’s when I throw in the tea towel, and dream up ways to work those lovely, fresh fruits into a crisp, refreshing porch cocktail. Read more
The margin separating spectator from participant is narrow. My teeth rattle to the rhythm of hooves striking the hard ground. Fine particles of dust settle on my damp skin. The tang of sweated horse flesh burns in my nostrils, tastes salty on my tongue. Thundering concussions ring in my ears and bold colors flash before my eyes like a lightning storm.