I just finished re-reading The Secret Garden,
and I've finally found an edition that I like.

I'm quite particular about the illustrations,
and I trawled several bookstores to find the right ones.
This version by Inga Moore
is even better than what I thought to look for--
the early scenes
of the dormant garden
are my favorite.

It may be "a children's book"
but it's the perfect one to read in the Springtime:

"'Eh!' he said, and as he crumpled the rich black soil she saw he was sniffing up the scent of it, 'there doesn't seem to be no need for no one to be contrary when there's flowers an' such like, an' such lot's o' friendly wild things runnin' about makin' homes for themselves, or buildin' nests an' singin' an' whistling, does there?'
Mary, kneeling by him holding the seeds, looked at him and stopped frowning."

On an evening walk
through the side streets of my neighborhood
I indulged myself
and photographed shot after shot
of Springtime's beautiful offerings.

I climbed a hill
and over-looked the city
under a striking sunset,
and I felt still
and exultant
at once.

A few drops of rain
warned me back down
and reaching the bottom,
I ran the last way home
protecting my camera from the wet.

Sunshine in the woods,
sunshine on my counter.

Homemade Lemon Curd

+8 tbs. butter
+Zest of 3 lemons
+1/2 c. fresh lemon juice
+1 1/2 c. sugar
+6 eggs, beaten

Combine butter, zest, lemon juice, and sugar in a double boiler set over simmering water (don't forget the water below the boiler or your pan will burn--I have done this). When the butter has melted but before the mixture gets too warm, gradually whisk in the beaten eggs. Continue to cook, stirring constantly, for ~15 minutes or until the curd is thickened to the consistency of thin pudding. Remove from heat and let stand for 15 more minutes. Place curd in a sterilized container and store in the refrigerator.

We were gifted this beautiful planter the other day.
For its health
I've since moved it outside,
but while it was indoors
it sat near the window
next to the ghosts
of last year's summer tomatoes.

I'm torn--
should I buy tomato starts again?
The only space I have to grow them
doesn't get enough light
so they tangled into
a man-sized wildness on our balcony,
growing up and up and up,
seeking out the sun.
A tomato forest
right outside your front door
can be quite appealing
in a funny way,
but perhaps it's also a little ridiculous?

Who's excited about this lady's new album?
Alela Diane & The Wild Divine.
A beautiful title, I think.

A weekend excursion to Deception Pass.
Sometimes it's nice to get out of the city.

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I've added the middle photograph to the shop!
Happy Spring.

Bread, oil on canvas, 30" x 30"

Spring is coming.

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Found out that the puppy I convinced my parents to adopt in 5th grade is very ill.
He is 14 now.

It breaks my heart to think
of how we bring
these dear creatures
(supremely loved)
into our lives
all the while knowing
that it is quite likely
that they will be gone
before us
and that after a time
with them
we will
(need to learn to)
say goodbye.

Light, light, light!
There's more in the evenings after work,
and it's amazing what a difference it makes.
Just like last year,
I wonder at how
the attitudes change:
the darkness
is cozy in December,
but by March,
it's begins to grow
cloying and heavy,
and it's the returning light
that brings us joy.

For me,
it is these unconscious inclinations
that suggest so strongly
that a life lived
in tune with the seasons
(particularly
what we eat when, etc.)
is one that,
simply,
seems to make
a lot of sense.

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Three beautiful female voices:
Mariee Sioux - Buried in Teeth
Jesca Hoop - Tulip
Emilíana Torrini - Serenade

At this time of the year
I always think
that winter
must feel tired.
The cozy newness
of the season
in November and December
is gone
and after getting the New Year started,
Winter nears the end of its term.
Its done its time
and as it (oh so slowly)
begins to turn the world over
to the next season
the light seems thin,
the cold weary,
and the wind aimless.

The extra light
in the evening
is so very much appreciated--
thank you, Daylight Savings.

(And this is my first
self-portrait since
I cropped most of my hair off!
It's so short now
and I love
how easeful it is).

Table II, finished.

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Kevin Cooley - Svalbard

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The Eucalyptus Print
from my shop
is in the March 2011 issue of Martha Stewart Living!

New sketches.

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I was thinking today
about how I make choices
concerning
the materials I choose to use.
Dark ranges of trees,
a cliff side,
the river I hike along:
I reach for my camera first.
I feel almost no pull at all
to translate these scenes to paint
or to sketch them down on paper.
In fact,
painting landscapes does not interest me at all.
They are,
however,
the first thing I seek out
when I am behind the lens.
Domestic moments,
the angles and patterns around my home,
the way blocks of color arrange themselves:
these things are usually
scribbled down
and later worked in oils
(though I photograph them too).
I often make these decisions
immediately,
unconsciously,
so it is interesting
to pause and examine
what I am doing
when I begin new work.

Do you have this experience?