229/365: curly kale
How gorgeous is this stuff?? I am happy to report that after years of trying, I now not only EAT kale – I actually enjoy it. Don’t give up 🙂
A full day of making in the studio finished up with loads of local harvest prints. Exciting to be back in this season of plenty. I’ll be glad to create some mouthwatering new images while dreaming up the next meal. Getting ready for Art at St. Kate’s a week from Saturday. Let there be sun…
For those who are paying attention – I took a few days off the blog – busy celebrating our anniversary and shuttling kids to camp. Still took photos every day, though. I’ll get caught up over the next few days.
Thursday was a big day. I think I started counting the weeks till our first CSA box sometime in January. Fresh, local food is back, baby. Now it’s summer!
Our favorite local farmers market opened last weekend. The 1st CSA box delivery is only 22 days away. Edible things are coming out of the ground.
These long-awaited gustatory delights complete the full sensory abundance of the season. I like spring best when I can taste it.
Yesterday’s remains looked like old, bleached bones to me. Today’s papery tomatillo husks reminded me more of snake skins, all dried up and left behind in the dirt. But then there’s that intricate lacey map of veins, so like blood vessels, like a record of the life that coursed through this tomatillo ghost town.
You may have noticed that I have a fascination with things in nature that look like other things in nature. And, so, as I was surveying the remains of the garden – the leftovers from fall – I was struck by the skeletal transformation of some of the vegetables. Because I particularly love it when vegetables begin to resemble animals. Or, in this case, bones.
73/365: last year’s beans
I pine for fresh vegetables like a long lost lover, especially this time of year when the farmers market is still so many months away. The snap of the pencil-thin spears made my heart sing. Their vital green was intoxicating.
With asparagus like this, I thought, it must be spring somewhere.