other sustenance

morning walks watching the sun rise in the sky. canada geese arriving. warm southerly winds. melting sheets of ice. chirping robins. lawns and fields emerging from blankets of white. freshly-baked artisanal bread nested in a brown paper bag hung on our doorknob. distilling the essence from everything. phone calls from my family and friends. my husband. napping in the sun with my child. driving the back roads. days mild enough to roll down my window. seeing and connecting with people, if only from a distance. dreaming of running. remembering my father and mother and knowing the good i inherited from them. getting a big smile from calvin. gorgeous scenes of rolling oceans, giant kelp forests and one astonishing octopus. sitting with a friend in her front garden. feeling the ache of want and nostalgia. FIP french radio. birds building nests. buds plumping. frost on golden fields. a decent night's sleep. knowing vaccinations are coming. college students dotting the sidewalks. watching one of them try roller blading for the first time. the promise of longer, warmer, greener days.

food for the soul

a big bunch of thick-stemmed sunflowers standing in a tall jar of water, and a quart of hot-off-the-stove chunky lentil soup delivered in person, masked-up, delightfully unannounced, on the steps of our side deck.

a large zip-lock bag chock full of homemade chicken, pork and shrimp wontons, a smaller zip-lock stuffed with fresh spinach, and a quart of savory ginger and green onion broth for steeping; four large home-baked crinkled molasses and spice cookies on a square of parchment in a white bakery box with a clear-cellophane window; a baggie of handcrafted pork skin dog treats for smellie; homemade squash, nutmeg, percorino romano and parmesan cheese tortellini with a jar of tomato basil pasta sauce; a freshly-baked pull-apart loaf of newfoundland white bread—all these carefully nestled into a shallow cardboard box and unexpectedly hand delivered, masked up, at our mudroom door.

kitchen-crafted caramel sea salt, walnut and bittersweet chocolate tart in a foil-covered aluminum pan left on our side deck bench. most regrettably, a critter got to it before we did—dammit!

a carton of pastel teal and tan farm-fresh eggs hung lovingly on our doorknob in a beige plastic bag.

a big box stuffed with styrofoam peanuts cradling a small box of artisanal walla walla chocolates, a zip-lock laden with thick squares of homemade shortbread, and two bubble-wrapped bottles of regional red wine mailed to us from southeast washington state.

a massive wedge of white birthday cake iced with buttercream frosting and white chocolate shavings set on our side deck after dark in a clear plastic container with a happy red lid.

thank you maura, seth, ann and kevin, collin, stacy, and jens, barbara, nate and gabriel. you nourish our bodies and souls just when it seems we need it most.