An Autumn Moment

I knew the truth. Love changes like the seasons: cold rains fall, leaves rot, people leave.

I watched as her finger traced the veins on the backside of the leaf. Her touch, like Braille, feeling each line as if a road on a map. I saw the future, like the beauty surrounding us, disappearing into mist. Yet, I had convinced myself: This is now. It is fine to love someone a little too much.

“What will you do with a leaf?”

“Press it between the pages of a book,” she said.

“Look up.”

The sky was a canopy of stars. The moon hung, ripe, against a backdrop of black and light.

She asked, “Is this not a beautiful night?”

I nodded.

Her eyes glittered gold, “Like a Van Gogh canvas and we’ve stumbled into the scene.”

I slipped her small hand in mine. “Promise.”

“Anything,” she had said.

“When the world turns ugly, you’ll stay beautiful.”

~ excerpt from a scene

Draft One

“when the world turns ugly,…”- source unknown

cliches, quotes, venations, parallel lives

Fiction

Hands and Heart

Lately, I find myself drawing inward. Wondering. Hopeful. Creating. Sometimes, it’s a friend’s gift: stalks of rhubarb. Sugar and cinnamon moments. Other times, it’s following my curiosity to learn a new skill or craft.

So it is with soap. I prefer organic melt and pour process or “cosmetic” soap. There is less fuss. I avoid lye. Simply White. Drops of essential oil elevate the experience. Petals from the garden crown the artisan slabs. Parchment paper wrapping. Twine tied.

Watson Home

COVID19 Moment

Women

Women are posting black and white photographs in support of their personal commitment to lift up other women. The highlight reminds us of the importance of self love, the beauty of sacrifice, our independent and collective strength and wisdom. When we are kind to ourselves: body, mind, and spirit, it shows as raw and real. It’s in the swing of a hip. It’s captured in the closed eyes of a mother cuddling a child. It’s viewed as a grandmother’s gentle touch and witnessed in a granddaughter’s confident smile. We aren’t perfect. We step in when another steps out.

When we lift another woman, we empower her. I’m blessed to know strong, beautiful, kind women. Some are mentors, others, teachers. Many volunteer. One leads a charity whose goal is to empower girls. There are writers among us. Others lead Book Clubs that encourage us to read, think, and connect to worlds beyond our own. All have faced adversity. We are sisters, mothers and friends. We talk fashion and home. We bake. We laugh and cry. We are a family. Take time to sit with the struggle and the bond that unites us. We are richer for it.

Women are tonic and salve. Honour their stories. Encourage and support their journeys.

Pay it forward. Choose kindness. Lift your sisters, higher.

sisters

black and white

Simple Goodness

heaven is a rhubarb crisp

If you had climbed the high fence that surrounded our back yard, and peeked over, you’d have noticed a garden. Tomato plants stood, tall and staked, ruby orbs shadowing the sunniest wall. Lazy bees slept in lavender bushes. A clump of chives grew in one corner of the plot. As children, we snipped the verdant tips to bring to the kitchen, a garnish for new potatoes. There was rhubarb, its crimson stalks ranging from rich, deep red to shy, speckled pink.

It is satisfying to pull something from the ground. We’d snip, our tiny fingers fumbling with scissors. We’d pick the fattest tomatoes from the vine and pluck the firmest stalks of rhubarb. A quick rinse and a slow dip into the sugar bowl, when our mother’s back was turned. Rhubarb was our garden candy: tart and sweet.

Rhubarb is an old fashioned slice of heaven- any time. Imagine my ‘Oh Joy’ moment when I opened the front door and saw the unexpected paper bag, a gift from a friend. Inside, was half a banana cake (vanilla iced), delicious chilled with a cup of dark roast coffee. She could spin this cake to gold. Tucked alongside the cake, three stalks of rhubarb, perfect for my second favourite dessert: crisp.

There are many reasons to bake: to nourish, create, perfect, and comfort. We bake to love: ourselves and others. When we bake something and offer a slice, we shrug, knowing to bake is a form of love. Crisp is simple. There is absolutely nothing fanciful about oats. I chop, bag and freeze the rhubarb for the perfect moment.

Today, this morning, is the moment I’ve waited for. Cloudy mornings and another day of COVID19 isolation, feel ‘lighter’ with a plate of warm crisp. There is comfort, knowing the clouds will disappear and the oven holds promise.

Open the freezer. Rhubarb compliments dark berries and strawberries. Use whatever is on hand. Modify. There are better recipes than mine, on line. I ‘wing’ it, reducing the sugar content, eliminating cornstarch. If the finished product appears too runny, drain the excess juice. You won’t be disappointed. Add slightly more oats (for the heart), cut back the butter.

There isn’t a crisp I haven’t devoured, best served with a scoop of ice cream or a ring of fresh cream. Heaven! Acknowledge these times. Be still. Be grateful. Savour each bite.

BEWARE: Recently I read: Fresh rhubarb damaged by severe cold should not be eaten, as it may be high in oxalic acid which migrates from the leaves and can cause illness. Who knew?

~ bake barefoot, little thoughts, COVID19, keepitsimple, simplegoodness

Drop your sufferings, one by one

Spent petals from late summer’s bloom.

Watch, as the cloud of witness opens to reveal light.

Let words shatter time and space.

You matter.

Our arms wrap you in the dark, rock you through the stormy sea.

For you are ours, sweet darling

Pull the arrow from your heart.

~ adapted from a line spoken by Alice Walker