My WorksA Book of Feasts, Recipes and Stories from American Celebrations
"There is a communion of more than our bodies when bread is broken and wine drunk"- M. F. K Fisher "Live simply, but celebrate special occasions. -Horace "Mention childhood celebrations to almost anyone and the memories spill forth. The first bite of that special chocolate birthday cake Mother spent two days preparing. The well worn family stories that aunts and uncles told around the table... The scent of cinnamon and almond filling the kitchen..the flowers, the candlelight, noodle pudding, hoppin'John, homemade pickles. The sounds, the smells and especially the tastes return as vividly as ever. Why are we filled with longing when we recall these special memories? What is the magic of communal feasting that we find so nurturing? These are the questions that inspired nearly three years of research and travel as we interviewed, photographed and feasted our way across the US. It was a journey of discovery..." -Introduction, A Book of Feasts (Longstreet Press, 1993) Island Quintet, New Works by Five Vineyard Poets
Edited by Julie Kimball, (Westmeadow Press, 2006) The Fourth of July There is talk at the pool of barbecues and picnics. But we stay close watching from the high terrace flashes of fireworks bursting across the skyline. We draw back the bedroom curtain for you to see, you, our dying patriot. We tell you that you can go and you hear our brave goodbyes even as we trip on the edges of our loss. Yet you gaze past us your eyes held in rapt salute to a standard somewhere far in the night sky beyond the colors of red white and blue. Vineyard Poets
Edited by Julie Kimball, (Westmeadow Press, 2004) Not On My List I will not make a list of these things. They are more important than a loaf of bread or calling the plumber and the library book due yesterday. I will simply walk on the beach when the sound of surf won’t let me turn away and write when the gift of a phrase is newborn and just opening its eyes and sit on the porch because the chair is empty and the yellow finches are feeding and kiss your cheek because it is there and turned upward, unsuspecting. And I will eat that peach because its ripeness will not wait for me to do my chores. July 31, 2001 Capacity
"I've always admired people like Uncle Chet, envious of those who go to wine tastings and can still make lucid conversation even after the last glass of sauterne. I long to be able to down mega slices of mile high pie after a feast of barbecued shrimp and roasted oysters and corn on the cob. But alas, those of us who are more grazers than gluttons have learned instead to cultivate friends who are "enablers", seeking the perfect Epicurean co-dependency." Poem of the Month
The Orchid The bloom is just beginning to fade now after four months. All the while you were gone she soaked in the voices at our table, the slant of afternoon sun, brilliant and unhindered by summer leaves, the moisture of steam from soup pots, tea cups and morning mists. She gave back a rich alabaster light and graceful presence hung on a single arching stem. We marveled at her endurance, the length she held forth counting backwards the weeks then months of her unfolding. Her petals, plumped nourished us in your place filled our eyes and hearts, while you, planting yourself away blooming too, soaked up the sound and feel of another place. We marveled at your endurance, and ours counting forward, the weeks, the days, then hours when you return. |
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