11.3.10

Who knew a reindeer could smile?

10.14.10

Pumpkin Pancakes.

1 cup whole wheat flour
1/4 cup oatmeal
3 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon cloves
1/2 teaspoon allspice
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup whole milk
3/4 cup canned pure pumpkin
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Whisk first 5 ingredients in large bowl to blend. Whisk milk, pumpkin, eggs and vanilla in medium bowl to blend well. Add pumpkin mixture to dry ingredients; whisk just until smooth (batter will be thick). Brush large nonstick skillet with butter; heat over medium heat. Working in batches, pour batter by 1/3 cupfuls into skillet. Cook until bubbles form on surface of pancakes and bottoms are brown, about 1 1/2 minutes per side. Repeat with remaining batter, brushing skillet with butter between batches. Serve with syrup.

10.3.10

Sometimes the world is so beautiful that I can hardly stand it.

Today I sat with a group of starry-eyed kids as we learned an Igbo song about a little bird. I watched each child pound out a rhythm on a traditional drum and shriek at how pleased they were with each other. We rolled on the floor laughing together as they took turns trying on a mask, an exaggerated man's face twisted by tears, as they took turns making their best pretend sobs from behind this mask, this mask made in Nigeria years ago with the sole purpose of letting men know that it's okay to cry.

I came home just before dusk, walked around my neighborhood with my shoes crunching orange leaves like potato chips. A kitten tried to talk to me, tiny meows curling out of its mouth. The clouds hung in the sky, opal-ridged jewels, and the air smelled of cold dirt and woodsmoke.

Now I am home, eating a dinner that tastes like autumn (maple-curry-squash-wild rice-currant bowl), studying a painting I just started of what very well might be the last heirloom tomato of the year.

Sometimes I can barely keep it to myself, it's all so good.

9.19.10

9.3.10

8.20.10

8.10.10

The summer slips away quickly as its balmy evenings. Two of the cherry tomatoes in my garden have turned red. I shipped this painting to a woman in Atlanta last week -- I think I'm going to miss it. My fig tree had some furry little white bugs crawling over it, so I had to throw it in the dumpster. But, I'm going to make pickles from the cucumbers in the garden. Things even out in the end.