attitude of gratitude

During a discussion at the 92nd Street Y that I attended a few months ago, Diane Von Furstenberg, President of the Council of Fashion Designers of America, was asked if she had any advice to offer those in her industry who felt that they slaved away day after day, hoping for success but feeling invisible and unappreciated. She said: "When you reach my age, you look around you, at your children and grandchildren, your friends, the people in your life, the food in your refrigerator, the home in which you live. If these things make sense, then you are a success."

On this Thanksgiving, I am thankful...

 That I did not have to wait until I was in my sixties to learn this lesson. 

That I married someone who subtly challenged my assumptions that home and family were not my thing.  

For good food--and a husband who enjoys making it.

For bouncing golden curls and four-year-old logic. 

For an enormous belly (hopefully as enormous as it will ever be). 

That in a week my belly will be flatter and there will be another adorable little person by whom I will be endlessly charmed and refined.

For places to put things and everything in its place.

For all the people and places and moments of which my life is composed.

For what is real.  For everyday Grace.

constant cravings

After craving crepes for weeks, the other day I found myself staring at a refrigerator full of apples from our farm share and  had a sudden brainwave. Crepes with apple compote turned out to be easier than apple pie, and tastier. Forgive me for not measuring, but it's all to taste anyway. By the way, our other topping combinations were also worth mentioning: strawberry preserves with fresh cream cheese, brown sugar and lemon, and dulce de leche with dark chocolate. Who needs a neighborhood creperie if you have a kitchen (and these T-things)?

Apple Compote

apples, any variety, peeled and cubed

fresh-squeezed lemon juice

cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves

brown sugar

water or juice

Combine all ingredients and simmer in cast iron skillet or saucepan for ten minutes, or until apples are soft and coming apart a bit and liquid has thickened. Serve warm.

Sweet Crepes

1 3/4 c whole wheat pastry flour

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 c sugar

2 c milk, room temp

3 eggs, room temp

5 tbs butter, melted
1 tsp vanilla

Mix dry ingredients, mix wet ingredients, pour wet into dry and whisk.  Refrigerate a minimum of 1 hour, overnight if possible.

first field trip

For me: Three tedious hours on an uncomfortable bus to do ten minutes of apple picking, for apples so mediocre that even she wouldn't eat them once we were home...

For her: Her first field trip! Apple picking! With her class! And her mommy! The stuff memories are made of...

Oh, to have that kind of childlike enthusiasm again, about anything.


(The flapper-style headdress?  Her "girl headband" made by friend William the night before.  She didn't take it off for forty-eight hours.)

road trip: wacky wednesdays on the I-91

It was kismet coming and going. On the way to Vermont we needed dinner and distraction, and we found the Thornes Market on Main Street in Northampton, MA, with great shops and food, including a purveyor of chocolates that was as serious about chocolate as I am. On the way back, we had two kids who needed a little diversion to break up the drive, and what did we find but the Dr. Seuss Memorial Sculpture Garden (catinthehat.org) in Springfield, MA, which absolutely blew the minds of our two little bookworms.

road trip: cornish, new hampshire

I can't help being overtaken by daydreams in a place like this, dreams of having my own vast lawns and gardens filled with art and perfect little nooks for sitting with a book, and a screened-porch where I and my friends (all artists and intellectuals, of course) could while away the afternoon in spirited conversation or casually enjoying one anothers talents. This particular place was the home of Augustus Saint-Gaudens, the prolific American sculptor whose early years in Paris figure heavily in David McCullough's The Greater Journey: American's In Paris (which I had just finished). The estate is now a national historic site (nps.gov/saga). Just a short drive over a covered bridge from Windsor County, Vermont and there we were. 

Many of Saint Gauden's original works are there--large, breathtaking memorials and smaller bas-relief portraits, as well as the kind of small cameos upon which he cut his artistic teeth, so to speak. We toured the house and then wandered on our own through the studio, styled after his favorite places in Italy. Ah, Someday, I think, but really, I was happy just to pretend it was mine for a day.