Bharatanatyam

Summer Camp is in full swing with cultural information, whale crafts, Salam / Bonjour / Hola / Aloha greetings abounding, cookies and jello, and in the midst of it all this traditional Indian dance to punctuate the kids total fascination with otherness. It is amazing and wonderful to tell a group of kids about cultures so unlike their own, yet very similar in many other ways. This year is kicking last year's ass in awesomeness. 

Garden update: radish sprouted 1 inch high, beets radically rooted, air plant transplants in the middle bathroom just this morning, succulents sufficiently transplanted, and squash still blossoming with the help of force pollinating. I read an article in Organic Gardening about this: take pollen from male blossom (with brush / finger) and lightly rub onto budding female ends. Voila! Zucchini never tasted so unconsenting. 

Clap Your Hands

More photos from my spring trip to the Aquarium of the Bay in San Francisco.

As time alone stands still for some

                                           Stuffed sailor up with eyeball sun

And if by castle ship should stray

It has like you no chosen fate for 

It's tongue-tied caboose that leads

This ragged lad, this finger-flipping

Mom and dad (for what is worth some aimless steer?)

And should mouth confuse my foggy mirror and reveal what is not there 

I shall take this unbound train away

Orangina

In a truly-summer thematic effort, here are only pictures of orange things from the garden. It is harvest season, and while we are not producing as much as I hoped, I have learned a lot from experimenting with lunar planting, building beds, etc.

The nasturtium has volunteered itself back in a big way, this being the third flower harvest, and all through spring I have been mixing the clover-like leaves into stir fries that can hold up to the bitterness of the greens.

Recipe for Nasturtium Pesto:

In a food processor, mix:

clean, de-stemmed nasturtium flowers (2 C ideally)

1/2 C sauteed garlic

1/2 C olive oil

I love when volunteers appear - little orange flower unfurling from mysterious spotted leaves. More pictures of the garden and other summer happenings on my flickr, here. 

Happy Summer Solstice! In pagan tradition, a community would make a huge bon fire, testing their leaping skills by crossing the center. Couples would hold hands and leaping across the fire without letting go is a sign of longevity for their relationship. Single women wear floral garlands in their hair and traipse into the woods in search of the elusive flowered fern (biologically unproven to exist). 

Summer of Love, 2009

I wrote this three years ago after returning from an epic journey which changed my outlook, inspired new passions, and taught me to harvest and dance in an unplotted acre.

I was gone a long time, but it felt like longer. Honesty milled together with five gallon buckets of rye flour, a walk-in refrigerator reeking of peppers and Earth balance, dodging two inch long armored hornets, and spotting hummingbirds dipping their beaks in the purple, drooping sunflowers. Gingerly walking to my room because there is a creaky floorboard on the second floor and my roommate is asleep in her loft, I smell like tobacco and my fingers are stained yellow from smokes and nutritional yeast. I wrote letters home, drove across and across again the Mason-Dixon, and came back for another week of home away from home. Dreamed of cleaning carrots and clipping alliums, sat on good feelings until I fell asleep only to wake up to more.

A wicked week back and my thoughts drift elsewhere, to a higher altitude. Time to learn when to quit while I'm ahead, when to end on a good note, and when to chill the fuck out and appreciate singular experiences. Sandy beaches reminds me that life always flows, the river never stops, and all the water in the planet circulates itself whole again every day. You piss everyday, unless you got bad stones, and the same water that swirls down the toilet into the great unknown seas moistens our skins on humid Florida days. Piss out, piss in. And it is for this reason we should remain fluid and always moving with the currents, never getting stuck in a retention pond and never clogging the shitter.

Tiny Dancer

Good morning, sunshine and soil finally up on the roof with sprouted corn and tomato seeds neatly bedded! Took a kraut/beet/ginger shot a the market this morning, cheers with a stranger who said "to your health." I said "kampai."


 This photo is from a series I took of roommate Sam at Lake Merritt last month (click link to photostream). I'd like to spend more time taking photographs but can't seem to find the time right now. In 3 weeks my mornings will be habitually mine again, hopefully filled with my bucket list of enjoyable things, more gardening, painting, collaging, photographing, biking, and studying. 

The front room mantel, and the second of two dried flower collages I made, another project to tackle in my spare time. I'm feeling incredible energized to begin a new chapter in my life, one of more leisure and pursuing my own wants...once I figure out what those truly are. Creating new things is paramount. 

Wine comes in at the mouth   
And love comes in at the eye;   
That’s all we shall know for truth   
Before we grow old and die.   
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

- A Drinking Song, W.B. Yeats