I have always felt safe in this vast solitude, living in pastureland cut from the old juniper and pinon forests long ago, out here among the coyotes and other wild things. Perhaps it’s offered something soothing to my own wild nature… On those pitch-black nights when there is no moon, with only the stars offering any sense of proportion, all of my nervous awkwardness falls away because I know who I am in those moments.
On THIS day my friend Kim Moss is busy baking an almond plum cake in the kitchen (here’s the recipe) and in preparation for switching over to my winter bed, I’ve hung new LL Bean flannel sheets out on the line to dry, so today these two things express the season most for me.
The bread turns into a kind of tender cake that sits in the midst of a creamy custard, while the apples and raisins somehow mix all through the whole dish offering sweet little surprises here and there. And the layer of bread on top turns into a crunchy, sweet crust that is making me weak in the knees just thinking about it.
And of course it is moments like these, all knitted together in one fine tapestry, that make me unspeakably grateful to be living this artful life, on this priceless land, in this remarkably rich part of the world.
I do know there is beauty wherever we are if we make ourselves available to it—in New York City, in Seattle, around a table where a meal is being shared… its everywhere.
The first thought I had upon taking my first bite of this revelation of a pie was that it would make a wonderful gift. Better still, hand deliver it and stay for a cup of coffee and, of course, a slice of chocolate pie.
“The pillows supporting your back tell you it’s okay/ to spend two days a month on the sofa/ Its soft red curves remind you the world has this way
of moving itself along without your toil… This is rest. This is ease. Maybe even grace…”