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…
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.
I have always been a staunch member of the broccoli love camp. I like it every which way. And it’s a reliable old favorite during these long winter days that can still make me say “mmmm” right out loud. For all its virtue, it is no less voluptuous to me.
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.
Some kind of magic or, at the very least, charm, is in these beans. Their speckled faces – each different from the last – were enough to enchant two modern-day children (and their mother) pod after pod as we sat together shelling in the summer sun.
The only reason this photo made the blog is that it’s the only one I managed to take that day. Still, it tells a story. Spotting this gigantic spud bursting out of the ground, I concluded that the potatoes were ready for digging and gathered the whole family around for the first harvest. Turns out this guy just went a little rogue in his desire to see the sun.
With a show of (somewhat lackluster) support from our kids, we’re trying to make ‘Taco Night’ a regular thing around our house. This evening it was beer-battered salmon tacos piled high with salsa verde, fresh jalapeños from our garden, and slices of avocado.
Sawyer and Zola accept the filling only as a vehicle for the tortilla. They are spartan tacos, at best. It’s a start.