the silence that spreads in the branches of the pecan tree

I have co-workers from all parts of the world -- from Argentina, China, Greece, Japan -- as well as from all parts of the United States. There are often fascinating differences among us, of course, though I am as often struck by how much alike we are.

hands making and unmaking promises

I keep telling myself that I'll sit down and write, or finish writing, a bunch of posts that have been in existing in the almost-but-not-quite-written limbo of my saved drafts folder.  I just haven't done it.

Some of you may remember that about this time last year I was playing a small but crucial role in Dr Goodhair's Crazy Deadlines Show.  This year, I am playing a similar role in a similar production, which sort of sucks up my 'writing for the blog' energies.  I am still doing and making, just more quietly.

What I am doing and making?

sing in a mist heavy with myrtle and listeners

All the usual excuses and explanations for long silences apply again. You know them all, and know also that I am sorry to go so long without a proper post.

peer into my heart of solace

I have at long last got my paws on my very own copy of The Scots Kitchen: Its Lore and Recipes by F. Marian McNeil, and have of course found a hundred things I want to cook, and learned several hundred things I didn't know.

billow through the kitchen like prayer

Most of the people I know, when you say 'pickle' to them, think of cucumbers. This is sort of unfortunate, because you can pickle almost any vegetable, and some, I think, are better pickled than fresh.

Each from his private bowl

No, Food52.  No.  Whatever this menu you posted is, it is not a 'medieval feast.'

A feast of moon and men and barking hounds

So work has been demanding and leaves little energy for other things, as I mentioned, and furthermore summer is coming, with heat that inspires sloth, and yet one does not live by vicious weeding and iced tea alone.

devoured from the edges

A few years back I posted a recipe for lamb stew. It's a good recipe, but when I went back to read it recently, I thought it could stand a bit of editing.

Spilled coin purse and a flower

If you grew up in the southern part of the U.S., or have family there, or have in-laws or neighbours or co-workers from there, you will have encountered the dish of black-eyed peas and rice known, somewhat mysteriously, as Hoppin John.  Sometime in the week before Christmas and New Year's one of these Southern people will ask if you have your black-eyed peas ready.  If you should see any of them on New Year's Day, they will not only ask if you've had your Hoppin John yet, but will ceremoniously produce a plate of it for you if you have not.  This may be the twenty-first century, and we may all be educated people in a digital world, but this humble plate of beans and rice is not optional on New Year's Day, at least not if you're in the South or in range of Southerners.

Since she enjoys her long night's festival

(this post is partially recycled from one posted on the predecessor blog of The Belfry in 2003)

In Sweden, the Christmas season begins on 13 December, the feast of Saint Lucy. If one accepts the story from the Legenda Aurea, that she was a fourth-century Sicilian martyr, then how she became so integral to the Christmas celebrations of a Scandinavian country is anyone's guess. I think, though, that when we talk of Lucy, we are in the realm of myth, not history. Before the calendar reforms in the 16th century, the winter solstice fell on 13 December, and Lucy, of course, is lux, light.

all the worthy treasure of Mycenae

Several years ago, as something of a lark, I planted a dozen corms of the saffron crocus (Crocus sativus).

Why on earth would I do such a (seemingly foolish) thing? Have I not buried enough money in the ground, never to see it again?

I eat asparagus with my fingers

It's that happy time of year known as asparagus season.

reading of books and eating of cheese

I've had a scattering of solicitous inquiries after my well-being. I am grateful for your concern and wish to reassure you that I've not, in fact, fallen off the edge of the earth, or into a hole.

How easily happiness begins by dicing onions

I found myself recently trying to describe to someone how graduate school took away my ability to read fiction for pleasure.

but they have something to say

Christmas was lovely. My sister is a wonderful cook, and I received some excellent gifts. But what I will remember most about this holiday season is the oysters.

for a further food I scarcely recollect to starve

You may remember that a few weeks back I was a bit het up about a 'recreation' of Emily Dickinson's coconut cake that Miss Dickinson surely would not have recognised.

a thing of cream and stars

Right, carrots. I promised I'd explain the carrots.

the way a fork mashes into view the inner light of a carrot

Game on.

The world begins at a kitchen table

There are some people in the vicinity of Belfry HQ who like traditional turkey dinners.

sweet music here that softer falls

For whatever foolish reason, when the weather turns cold, I turn nostalgic.