snow & gunpowder

Here are the promised images of the who-what-where of my illustrious trip to the "mountains" a couple weekends ago. (All photographs were taken with an iPhone 3G. Because that's what I have.) Upon arrival: mist, 40 degrees Fahrenheit, and blustery gusts. We found a site right over the lake, which was marvelous. Setting up camp and building a roaring fire in that weather was rather fun, and less daunting than it might have been without indomitable spirits at the ready. These are the remains of a turtle: his left hand (or foot) and several chunks of his shell. This lovely lady, A , was my expedition partner and photographer extraordinaire. Vast.   This is where we cooked our meals: on a flat stone in the fire pit. See how the sparks fly? That's chili in the pot, there. We made coffee here, as well. That coffee was to die for. The s'mores were beyond anything I've ever tasted, with Scandinavian ginger thins and ...

Unadulterated musings from frozen hands on the side of a rocky cliff in the Wichita Mountains, on February 10th, 2013: Tell me how you can miss things in your own backyard. Tell me how you give up the chance to see beauties unknown, yet to be charted, added to your repertoire. Why haven't your boots gotten use in so long? (or have they ever?) Mossy greens and mossy stones. Turquoise and pale blues. Golden hazes permeate, saturate. Tell me you want to see the world, starting with your own backyard. Will you know your home when someone asks you to tell about it? Have you visited the buffalo? Do you see their tracks? You are welcomed through their door - it's open, go in. The armadillos say "hello". Chilly, damp nights remind of the important things. Does your coffee have grounds in the bottom? No? You're not doing it right. Brew with intention after those frigid nights. Take your caffeine for serious. Ash in your chili? You're doing it right. The ra...

Lavender-infused hot chocolate: a concoction of my own invention. The little herbs in my fridge are about spent, so I'm quickly using them in everything I can think of (late in the evenings, anyway, since lavender tends to bring on the drowsiness). How about a favorite lavender-highlighted recipe of yours? Dreams . I've been dreaming like MAD every night for the past few months! Waking up is exhausting, because I recall so much of the dream that I feel like I've just got done living a whole life before the day has even begun. Last night I was talking with Jamie Beck about her prodigious child, and noting how much he is like my fiance. "Is the future known or unknown?" The small child tried with inadequate vocabulary to explain the deep yearnings of his heart. How am I supposed to go to work after that? Camping.  The lovely A and I are trekking out where there are bobcats and warblers and shrews and skinks and bats and beavers and otters and coyotes and elk. ...

House-brewed doppio espresso. I can't soak in enough of this soft apartment lighting. Creating my own golden haze is a task well-suited to me. Bearing and birthing beauty is my life's calling. More on that later...still percolating. Speaking of beauty, view these of the Drisco in SF, CA: Read below - why you (apparently) should stay at the Drisco: None of the photos above are mine, but there's no reason I can't have some just like them someday. The Drisco has smoked salmon and brie on the weekends, 'round-the-clock breakfast, and bicycles you can borrow. THEY HAVE A PILLOW MENU. I've never been to California, but am told it's a whole other world. Which reminds me of Aladdin taking Jasmine on the ride of her life, which never gets old, of course.