August 23rd, 2017 

It’s one of those days where I can see (faintly and smudgy against the horizon) where the idea that being a restaurant manager is glamorous comes from. My day starts languidly, rolling out of bed at 9:30am. I lounge in the sunshine on the back deck before jumping in the shower. Tossing around the desire…

The secret to catching her

She was born to run. Her legs muscled and strong from the youngest of ages she has always moved quickly. From one thing to another she dashes. Her trajectory one long straight line of deliberate action she moves easily between places, spaces, people. Just try and catch her, she’s so far out ahead she sometimes…

Honey

at the bottom of the mug this small splash of sweetness a promise of more to come.

Close Your Eyes and Trust Your Instincts.

That moment when suddenly it falls into place. For weeks and weeks you have been fighting an internal battle – you know you are missing pieces of the puzzle and the only way to get to them is to continue. You get up, you find tasks, you clean your house, organize cupboards. It will be okay…

when she was small.

when she was small she spent her days dirty from tip to toe. She dug holes, made mud pies, splashed, sat, sank, in puddles already knee high. she threw herself relentlessly into the world of dance, adamant from age 3 that it was where her body belonged. her mind a beehive of fantasy; her nose…

A Daily Practice.

Tonight throat scratchy nose stuffy but gratitude a daily practice. and so today it’s thanks for sunny south facing steps cookbooks that endlessly inspire grocery shopping friends who come for dinner chocolate tarts gluten free gnocchi brown butter & parsley sauce red wine belief in the dreams we hold

this here being me.

Familiar rhythms ground us as Sunday morning arrives in Comox. Only hours away from everyday life, it already feels surreal, as if when I return everything will be as it was before I left. This here so familiar – up early at the academy rehearsing. We sweat, we negotiate, we start from the top time…

In the beginning.

Yesterday there were no words for gratitude. There was simply too much caught up inside. The sorrow of one chapter ending stole my words, froze my tongue, blurred my eyes. It felt undone. Loose ends that will never be tied up or sorted out dangling this way and that as we hastily and unceremoniously left the…

First of the season

before spring truly arrives a few brave and adventurous souls. green, leafy, full-of-wonder. they sprout, grow, nourish. tonight, purple broccoli charred under the broiler miso grapefruit & garlic too. for this, gratitude.

Leap year marmalade.

Plums roasted, sieved, boiled. Blackberries too. This year’s lemons cooked, scraped, sliced. Flavours build on each other as the seasons mingle, summer with fall, fall with winter, winter with sunlight. Gently layered this jam is like nothing else that I have made before. The elements blend so that you can’t tell where one ends and the…

Muddled.

my old fashioned muddled with maraschino cherries at the bottom first instinct maraschino cherries in an old fashioned? second instinct what is a maraschino cherry anyway? third instinct gratitude. baffled by unnaturally coloured fruit in the back row of the jazz lounge my appreciation is for the expectation that fruit is seasonal and should be recognizable for…