Very truly, Julie

i (heart) shortbread

2012-02-12T07:52:00.004-05:00

Here's an early Valentine for you, the recipe for Shortbread Hearts from The Silver Palate Cookbook. In fact, the whole cookbook is a Valentine. It's the one that started my collection, so creative and full of fun ideas, with recipes that have withstood the test o' time. Baking these cookies is a rite of February. They're even more luxurious when dipped halfway in melted chocolate. And almost too pretty to eat. Almost.

Silver Palate Shortbread Hearts

¾ pound (3 sticks) butter, softened
1 cup confectioner’s sugar
3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour, sifted
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ cup granulated sugar

1. Cream butter and confectioners’ sugar together until light.
2. Sift flour and salt together and add to creamed mixture. Add vanilla and blend thoroughly.
3. Gather dough into a ball, wrap in wax paper or plastic wrap, and chill for 4-6 hours or overnight.
4. Roll out chilled dough to 5/8-inch thickness. Cut out cookies using heart-shaped cookie cutter. Place cut-out cookies on ungreased cookie sheets and refrigerate for at least a half hour before baking.
5. Preheat over to 325 degrees.
6. Bake for 20 minutes, or until just starting to color lightly; cookies should not brown at all. Cool on a rack.

love letters

2012-02-09T07:00:00.005-05:00

Never underestimate the gold to be found in the dollar bins at the craft emporium Michael's, like these incredible notecards. I went in to buy black foam board for work presentations and came out with every pack they had, thinking I'd catch up on my loveletter writing for Valentine's. There's not enough paper - or ink - in the world to capture all that needs to be said, but this is a start.

all tied up in ribbons

2012-02-06T21:19:00.005-05:00

If you follow the trail of love, it always leads to, well, more love. That's what happened when I fell in love with these new edition Love stamps designed by the amazing Jessica Hirsch. Due to my love of typography, I had to learn more, which led me to the website of Louise Fili, Ltd., graphic design firm extraordinaire. I realized that for years, without knowing the source, I have loved the work of the founder, Louise Fili, winner of every prestigious design medal awarded between here and Italy. I followed the ribbon to a charming interview and even a picture of her workspace. It was a bit like happening upon an unexpected doorway beneath a cheery red awning and, inside, cases of wondrous sprinkled cookies and pastries with a candied cherry on top. Love, love, love her movie star flair, her red lipstick and the pops of red in her design work, her innate Italianness and celebration of la dolce vita in every glorious little detail of life. That's amore!

art as prayer

2012-01-29T12:06:00.007-05:00

Long before pop culture reduced the word icon to mean Lady GaGa, the definition was a religious work of art. What I learned in a fascinating lecture by Dr. Celia Sinclair is that an icon can also be a window to the soul. I never thought about meditating over one, but she left us with this quote that opened my eyes:

"Just as we are responsible for what we eat, likewise we are responsible for what we are looking at. It is not difficult to become victim of the numerous visual stimulations that surround us. Yet we can make a choice. When it is not possible to pray, we can always briefly look at an icon, which is so intimately linked with the experience of love." - Henri Nouwen

12th-century icon of Archangel Gabriel from Novgorod, called "Golden-Locked Angel," currently exhibited in the State Russian Museum.

tangerine dreams

2012-01-28T08:03:00.009-05:00

If there's one critical life skill I've mastered, it's an ability to pick good produce. Especially citrus. Yesterday I drove across town to replenish a supply of honey tangerines from the Fresh Market. So juicy and delicious. Growing up in Florida, the mild winter months were citrus time. I return there every January, if only in my heart.

Tangerines

An innocent enough gesture, the placing of a

mesh bag of tangerines into a basket, among

golden raisins, coffee beans, carton of cream -

a crumpled list somewhere underneath.

You wheel on, past butter, milk and eggs, taking

what you need. Past the glass case of birthday

cakes, the man slicing coldcuts in the deli,

past rye and pumpernickel and magazines.

No longer noticing these things that always

speak of pleasure and plenty, you are

miles and miles away, across state lines,

caught up in different weather patterns,

different causes for concern.

But it is still January.

Winter is citrus season, season of memories.

Of blood orange, pink grapefruit, tangelo.

You can lose yourself in aisles of trees,

branches heavy, smudge pots burning

like incense. You can lose yourself

in a citrus grove,

in the past,

in another January,

far from piles of brightness

in a produce section.

Lucky is the friend of a grove owner whose

very nature is abundance. He helps you

fill brown grocery bags with fruit at

Sunday dusk before the school week begins

and teaches you a great truth as well:

the best ones are anything but beautiful,

mottled and thin-skinned, their goodness

lost to the unknowing.

Fill, fill the treat sacks with all you can,

as if it were October. Ahead,

two men amble,

heads bent in conversation.

This could be an olive grove,

a lemon grove,

a field of sunflowers.

This could be the happiest day of your life!

The only twinge of melancholy a glimpse of

migrant camps in the distance.

Later, sorting prizes to the hum of

an ancient juicer, you can't imagine

the price these jewels will command

some day, the price you'll pay for

remembering. It's almost too much

to bear now, when a single mesh bag

is all you bring home.

But it will have to do.

(image: Pinterest)

what not to wear

2012-01-20T07:35:00.004-05:00

It's been several years since I read What Not To Wear, but am still laughing and still following the authors' advice for a 5'3 person with a short waist, broad shoulders and an un-swanlike neck: no turtlenecked or double-breasted items, more chest should be exposed for an elongated neck with neutral shoes to enlongate the legs, avoid large prints and long skirts, etc, etc, etc. It's all proved spot on! Even though I definitively know what not to wear, there are still a few garments I persist in dragging out from time to time: the necklace of negativity, a (bad) mood ring, purse-fulls of procrastination and, on occasion, even the shawl of shame. A good closet purge can be a girl's true friend. I'm paring down to just the essentials in 2012. And the only accessory that really matters: a smile.

(image: Pinterest)

present and accounted for

2012-01-17T07:03:00.004-05:00

The new year always brings us what we want
Simply by bringing us along—to see
A calendar with every day uncrossed,
A field of snow without a single footprint.

- from the poem New Year's by Dana Gioia

If the key to life is staying right here in the present moment, experiencing it fully, how exactly do we do that? By hearing the clank and hum of the radiator and feeling grateful for warmth on a cold winter morning. By tasting the citrus grove in a sip of grapefruit juice. By listening closely, looking intently, breathing deeply. Over and over and over again.

(image: Pinterest)

drop a line

2012-01-14T08:10:00.004-05:00

I'll confess: I'm not a good journaler. I love love love the idea, but never follow-through with consistency. I've got lots of very cool books with lined pages, not a lot of content in any of them. When I came across the one pictured above, though, it seemed super doable and user-friendly. Especially for a new parent or a busy student. Then I got a note from a favorite friend, saying: My travelogue of 2011 was a 10-words-a-day journal. If you tend to run out of gas on journaling, give this a try - it's like writing a Haiku each night and records enough to jog a memory. Gair is hands-down one of the best writers I've ever known. Brilliant, creative, chock full of great ideas and joi de vivre. I'm going to follow her lead. Starting right where I am. Today, here, now. Ten words. One line. How about joining me?

book fare

2012-01-12T07:04:00.004-05:00

New Royal Mail stamps celebrate the work of British writer Roald Dahl whose books for children are among the most adored. What reader of any age wouldn't be drawn in by a massive peach, a chocolate factory and a little girl who devours every book in the library? Looking at these familiar covers transports me right back to the school book fairs my children attended throughout the years, happy times. A representative would usually come in advance for an assembly and work the kids into a near frenzy over popular new titles: The Mysterious Benedict Society, Esperanza Rising, Maniac Magee, Frindle, A Year Down Yonder, Chasing Vermeer. And series: The Indian in the Cupboard, Artemis Fowl, Captain Underpants, The Shakespeare Stealer. How excited they got and how wonderful it was to see them so caught up in books. I wish that for every child. A forever gift, the love of reading.

what time is it?

2012-01-09T20:41:00.010-05:00

Time and again, I am reminded that there are two ways to consider the concept of time and wonder why I always seem to default to chronos, or chronological, in which every minute is regarded in a fleeting, sand-through-hourglass kind of way, provoking the feeling of perpetually coming up short, running out of time. When I could be living into the sacrament of God's time, kairos, which exists in each present moment, is measured in meaning and hope, and is infinite. I'm lucky to go to a church that encourages pausing and pondering exactly which clock ticks for me. To choose whether the A.D. in 2012 A.D. is going to be defined in terms of after death or anno domini (the year of the Lord). And then to live into that.

(image: Pinterest)

flowery thoughts

2012-01-07T21:39:00.005-05:00

Ducking into a friend's florist had to be the ultimate winter Saturday morning treat. It was like an elves' workshop, everyone madly preparing for three big weddings that would take place today. One gorgeous arrangement was the size of my kitchen table! Winter white orchids, lilies and roses, hydrangeas big as snowballs. And the fragrance . . . pure sweet heaven. But amid all of that lushness, what I was drawn to most was a more minimalist display of boxwood balls. A different kind of lovely, simple and serene. January-esque.

(image: Pinterest)

sustenance

2012-01-05T20:32:00.007-05:00

One of the nicest things about winter is the urge to draw inward. To settle in with thoughts and dreams and let ideas sort themselves out. It's soul-satisfying to spend time with favorite artists and writers, studying their work under the heart's microscope. I am drawn to the collages of Romare Bearden and love learning about his early years here in Charlotte and his grown-up life in Harlem. I could read the words of Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet, a hundred times over and discover something new in them - or in myself - each time. Writing and knitting and reading are almost therapeutic in their nurturing effect. So is a good cup of tea, brewed just right and sipped from a cup and saucer.

book of life, new chapter

2012-01-02T21:27:00.014-05:00

Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year. What a great example of intentionality by the great Ralph Waldo Emerson. And what a perfect thought to hold onto for 2012. The new year is a thick book of creamy blank pages with thoughts, ideas, aspirations, attitude and actions waiting to be written. Each day, we dip a pen into the deep inkwell of self and the scribbled words become the story of our life.

(image: Pinterest)

the pause that refreshes

2011-12-29T06:50:00.003-05:00

There's something about this week between Christmas and the New Year that can be so restorative. It's the quiet of a train station after the Polar Express has roared off. It's a winter walk, all bare branches and birdsong. It's prayers and putting gratitude to paper. Oatmeal mornings, a creamy cable knit sweater, an afternoon nap and noodling away on resolutions. A caught moment of the year. Time to rest, rejuvenate, reflect, rejoice.

(image: Pinterest)

rejoice!

2011-12-26T07:48:00.005-05:00

Christmas floats down on angel wings

with a message that changes everything

Miracle foretold, a holy birth,

mysterious mingling of heaven and earth

The whole world's a manger, we all have a part

there's a spark of divine in each human heart

Be awake and aware, with joyful intention,

the present's a present and deserves full attention

Life's no to-do list, it's a handwritten letter,

the kinder and dearer and deeper the better

Spread some good news, find your true voice

using your gifts is cause to rejoice

Wishing you snowflakes swirling in air,

magical, festive moments to share

A soft, fleecy blanket piled on the bed

peace, goodwill and gingerbread

Keep the faith, be of good cheer,

let love set the tone in the coming year.

(image: Pinterest)

angel I have heard on high

2011-12-24T22:54:00.006-05:00

Italia arrived home from college in mid-December bearing a beautiful gold angel which I keep moving from nightstand to desk to wherever else I happen to be in the house. Don't be surprised if you're idling next to my car at an intersection sometime and there's an angel bobbing from the dashboard. Then she texted me a picture of these two lovelies she runs by on her morning jog and has been telling me about. Truth is, Italia's the angel. I knew it the moment I had her. She's absolutely radiant and wears a pair of wings like nobody's business (exhibit 1: church Christmas pageant, circa 1998). She is a great inspiration to me to fear not. And she brings tidings of great joy.

would you come through a blizzard?

2011-12-23T06:54:00.006-05:00

It's snowing up a storm as the minister shovels the walkway, lights the candles and waits. Who will come to Christmas Eve service? One by one, precious birds and animals and people show up, including the custodian who trundles over on snow skis. The organist comes with her backpack of music and thermos of tea, as does a soloist with a red scarf 'round his neck, and a small boy covered in cookie crumbs and cozy in his mother's arms. Finally, a stranger comes and it is Christmas. Oh how I love Coming Through the Blizzard by Eileen Spinelli. Her language is beautifully poetic and the illustrations by Jenny Tylden-Wright are bright and joyful. The message is, well, the Christmas message. It's not snowing where I am today - or even very chilly - but it is time to decide once again: am I going to show up for Christmas and all that it means to me (everything) or stay on the periphery where the weary world would have us 'celebrate.' I know what my heart wants and I know the way. All I need to do is follow the light.

a woman of letters

2011-12-21T06:55:00.009-05:00

It's raining and dark outside as I pull supplies together in early morning quiet for the children's letter writing workshop Laurie and I will teach in a few hours. Carols play softly on the radio as I think of the great letter writers I've known and loved. My mother's cousin Kay from Birmingham, Alabama, was who and how my love of letters started. I can still see her beautiful cursive on an envelope addressed just to me! Like magic, it opened up the world of writing that I inhabit today. Nelson and Anne put pen to page when I moved away from my childhood hometown and kept me smiling through the tears. Their letters were hilarious and prolific. Layne is exuberant and artistic, the first person I ever knew who created little masterpieces out of envelopes and then filled them with joy. I cherish all the letters from Laurie, too, and from my sister Michele. From Maria, Gair, Katie, Italia, Aunt Jennie, Anna and Mom. This is a love letter to all of them on a soft December morning. Sealed with a kiss.

(image: Pinterest)

joy to you (and the world)

2011-12-19T19:04:00.004-05:00

Some days joy chooses you and other days you have to choose it. Either way is wonderful.

(Image: Pinterest)

soothing words

2011-12-16T07:22:00.003-05:00

How are you today? I want to be helpful. Tell me what to do. I'm thinking of you. Three simple phrases offered up in a heartbreaking post about holiday grief etiquette, but appropriate anytime. If not in the throes of it ourselves or with prior sad experience, then most of us know loved ones, friends or co-workers who are grieving or going through a major difficulty right now. This the nature of life and it never takes a holiday. In fact, holidays can make things feel even more stark and desolate. Sometimes there can be a hesitancy to reach out because a situation is so overwhelming that our thoughts and words feel trivial and inadequate in the face of it. But reaching out in love and kindness is always right and might even make a tremendous difference. How are you today? I want to be helpful. Tell me what to do. I'm thinking of you.

(image: Pinterest)

an Advent 'to-do' list

2011-12-13T17:57:00.006-05:00

Follow a star. Be a wise person. Make your great grandmother's gingersnaps. Stir hot chocolate with a peppermint stick. Buy the Charlie Brown tree. Visit the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future. Hop a ride on the Polar Express. Listen for the animals to talk at midnight. Bear tidings of comfort and joy. Be a candle in the darkness. Fear not. Believe.

(image: Pinterest)

timeless tangerine

2011-12-10T18:29:00.006-05:00

There's always a little flurry of excitement in the design world when Pantone unveils its 'Color of the Year' which, for 2012, is Tangerine Tango (that's #17-1463 for the art directors out there), signifying renewed energy, optimism and the promise of a brighter day. Well, let's just say that we Florida girls have known this for, like, ever. There's something about growing up where breakfast could be plucked from a tree in the yard and the local bank dispensed freshly-squeezed orange juice in the lobby. You grow up to be a woman who lingers lovingly in the citrus section of the produce department. Who has an affinity for ambrosia and candied orange rind. Who loves to peel citrus because of the way it makes her hands smell. Whose zester is her prized kitchen utensil. And who is genuinely happy upon finding a juicy tangerine in the toe of her Christmas stocking. So, yes, I'll be dancing the Tangerine Tango again this year to kindle my energy, optimism and sunny outlook. According to the Pantone prophesy, so will you.
(image: Pinterest)

away in a manger

2011-12-06T21:44:00.002-05:00

Lambs and love. Softly, sweetly nuzzling. Quiet hush of a barn, straw strewn and earthy. The world spins round and round, and we with it, until something beautiful and unexpected gives us pause. Advent.

(image: Pinterest)

drummer girl

2011-12-03T08:02:00.004-05:00

I have no gift to bring, pa-rum pum pum pum, that's fit to give a King

Sometimes that's how it feels, especially at the holidays: what can I possibly do that measures up to the enormity of the great yawning need? Write a check here, volunteer a few hours there, donate a case of peanut butter, a winter coat, a grocery store gift card? Then I got to thinking about the little drummer boy and got a favorite book off the shelf, the one illustrated by Ezra Jack Keats with humble, beautiful pictures. The little boy worries about not having anything to bring until he considers the instrument in his hands and plays a song, which turns out to be the best present of all. A bit of himself, a gift only he can give. A drum beat. A heartbeat.

Which makes me think about the unique gifts that I have to offer. I can write. A letter or blog post or even a tweet that encourages and lifts. I can help someone craft a strong resume and write letters of recommendation. I can help organizations craft a message that generates volunteers, donations and goodwill. I also have a gift for encouraging young readers and writers, so I plan to seek out more opportunities to do that, starting today. This is the beat I'm marching to, so if you or someone you know needs any of these things, let me know. Pa-rum, pum pum pum.

(image: Pinterest)

circling 'round

2011-12-01T07:32:00.007-05:00

It always seems a little startling to me when December circles back around, a month so plump with expectations that it would take a miracle to deliver them all. We expect way too much of ourselves and others at this time of year. We expect spirits to be consistently jolly, preparations to be perfect and even the weather to cooperate with a dusting of snow at just the appropriate hour. The good news is that by setting aside an idealized, Norman Rockwell-meets-Currier-and-Ives version of happy holidaze, we create time and space and awareness to experience true joy. We make room for the miracle.

(image: Pinterest)

thankfull

2011-11-27T19:23:00.008-05:00

In no hurry for Thanksgiving 2011 to end so I'll just curl up with a cup of wild orange tea and nibble on some thoughts. Intention was the magic ingredient that made everything savory and sweet. Starting with an early morning road race in the cold sunshine. Festive and invigorating, the Turkey Trot was just the thing to work up an appetite for a simple yet elegant midday feast. But before that was Wednesday and dry brining a fresh, organic turkey with a rub of salt, sage, sugar and orange zest. Then making a centerpiece of pears and pomegranates and arranging deep pink roses, silvery lambs ear, sprigs of boxwood and rosemary in a vase. Finding a beautiful, interactive prayer to share made the meal extra special. Not joining the madding crowds out shopping on Black Friday kept things calm and bright. Pajama mornings, leftovers for lunch, long walks with the puppy. It's all good, the kids like to say. And it was.

glory days

2011-11-26T19:54:00.004-05:00

When the ginkgo loses its leaves, it does so in practically one fell swoop. Today this beautiful tree on Providence Road is only bare branches, but I took the picture a few Saturdays ago during a retreat break. While maybe not everyone's idea of a dream getaway, I got to spend two incredible days, head firmly in clouds, discussing ancient archetypes, the mysteries of faith and how to seek wholeness in a culture that beckons toward the superficial and unbalanced. Suffice to say it was a ginkgo-tree experience as everything unimportant fell away, providing a glimpse of heaven.

lingering in Thanksgiving

2011-11-25T08:57:00.005-05:00

The other day I heard the mind referred to as a sensorium. At first, I truly thought it was just a clever, made-up word conjuring some kind of fabulous arcade of the senses. I imagined a sensorium to be a Willy Wonka-like fantasy place where a person could pay admission and then wallow at will in stupendous, supersized experiences of hearing, sight, touch, smell and taste. But to be sure, I looked up sensorium and was surprised to find it defined by Merriam-Webster as 'the parts of the brain concerned with the reception and interpretation of sensory stimuli.' Which led me to the conclusion that we are all actually our very own sensorium. Sure, you can regard this purely in medical, psychological, physiological terms. Or . . . as an emporium requiring not one penny of admission, in which you are given the endless opportunity to revel, every blessed day of your life.

I'll take the latter. On a Thanksgiving platter.

The feast on any table pales in comparison to the feast of senses that is Thanksgiving. This is likely why we have such a collective affection for the homegrown holiday that happens on the fourth Thursday of November. Even though it is so rapidly railroaded by the Polar Express that I sometimes jokingly refer to it as Thanksmas. But that does such a disservice. To the sound of a loved one's voice. To the sight of a loved one coming through the door. To the softness of the dog's fur, the pungence of wet leaves, the hint of cinnamon and cloves in the pie.

This year Thanksgiving came on the heels of another daunting surgery for a best friend who has relinquished so much to cancer. He will never again run to catch a perfect spiral on the football field or labor years on end to build a perfect stadium. He can no longer lift the familiar weights at the Y, bales of pine straw for his vegetable garden or even the suitcases his youngest child will pack for college next fall. Each month seems to bring with it some fresh loss to which he simply responds with grace for the gift of another day. Another breath.

Some nights I lie awake so sad about it, trying to ward off that sleep robber, despair. And the only thing that brings me back to my senses is this idea of a sensorium. That even though everything may feel like loss, the senses have a mind of their own. To hear a friend's funny story. To see the full moon, touch a loved one's cheek, smell wood smoke and coffee brewing. To taste life. To these five, I would add a sixth, transformational sense. One which, if we are aware of it, has the power to elevate the other five to joy.

I'm talking about a sense of gratitude. That, when cultivated, makes every day Thanksgiving.

bogged down, but in a good way

2011-11-19T14:49:00.005-05:00

Even though there's still a day or two of school, and several of work, Thanksgiving is upon us. If you need convincing, there's a cranberry 'bog' in the middle of the Fresh Market. It's one of my favorite sensory treats of this annual feast of the senses. Right about now I need to make a list and check it twice (so that dinner will be extra nice), but the rest is gravy. Just show up and show some gratitude. I can do that. If not for a cure for Type 1 Diabetes (yet!), then for the precious Target pharmacist who fills the insulin prescription. And especially for that lifesaver, insulin! If not for Cocoa curled contentedly at our feet, then for the unfettered exuberance of the lost puppy we took in last summer. If not for the fiscal downturn at work, then for the unstructured time that's opened up for me to think, write, pray. Are you with me here? There's really not a whole lot to Thanksgiving, except everything: a fairly simple yet delicious meal with loved ones, enough leftovers for a good Dagwood sandwich and a wholehearted appreciation for the crazy, colorful cornucopia of life.

early Thanksgiving

2011-11-14T20:18:00.005-05:00

We made Thanksgiving Gratitude Journals today during Bookendipity Book Club and were well into the cutting and hole-punching when I realized that maybe it was presumptuous and even callous to do this craft at an elementary school where more than 80% of the families live in poverty. But the children must not have gotten the memo saying that life was barren and bust because they bubbled on and on about their blessings: an amazing-sounding grandma named Donna and a cool cousin who hands down her clothes, the teacher who 'reads all the time.' God and Jesus were on their lists, as were mamas, daddies, brothers, sisters and all manner of pets. As we packed up to leave, one little boy blurted out that he was thankful for his new foster family. His buddy said "Hey, I didn't know you were in foster care!" I don't like to talk about it, came the quiet answer and we all hugged goodbye.

worth noting

2011-11-09T21:12:00.010-05:00

Artist Laurie Richardson and I are giving a letter writing workshop for children on the Sunday before Thanksgiving. She's the kind of friend - a forever friend - who sends the sweetest things through the mail, even though we only live about a mile from each other. And drops off warm scones after she's tried a new recipe. She paints, she teaches art, she designs, she mothers. We met at a calligraphy class back when I was working in marketing at a bank, wanting desperately to get into writing full-time. She was an art director at a small agency where the writer had just given notice. She thought I would be perfect for the job and told her boss so, which was the beginning of my advertising career. That was five children ago (mine and hers!), one picture book collaboration and a gazillion happy memories. Laurie makes the best soup, too, which we'll sit and eat in her colorful, art-filled kitchen while dreaming up ideas like this workshop:

Take Note!

The Art of Letter Writing:

A workshop for children

Grades 1-6

In the age of email, a handwritten letter is more dear than ever. It's an envelope filled with love and creativity that can open up a world of happy for both writer and recipient. Put your personal stamp on life by becoming a letter writer! Artist Laurie Richardson and writer Julie Marr are longtime pen pals who will share wonderful examples and discuss what makes a letter fun to write and a pleasure to read. They'll show the supplies a letter writer needs to have on hand for convenience and inspiration. Participants will put pen to page and jot a note or two, then even create personalized stationery! To register, please email Laurie at laurielmr@gmail.com or julie@stewartmarr.com.

Sunday, November 20th

3 - 5 pm

Cost: $30

mind space

2011-11-08T07:06:00.006-05:00

Sometimes it's hard to tear myself away from my desk at home in order to go to the desk at work. Or anywhere for that matter. It's cheerful and inviting, especially when the stack of bills is mailed on its merry way and assorted papers have been filed or otherwise dealt with. Inspiration waits for me here, amid the paper clips and post-it notes. There's always a project or two that I want to delve into, a letter I want to write, an idea fluttering around to be captured in the butterfly net of imagination.

swing time

2011-11-05T07:27:00.003-04:00

Falling Back

Imagine Ginger, swirling away from Fred's outstretched

hands, then in again before an extravagant backward dip.

Outside, leaves are the color of her hair and today it is

we who fall back. A gift has been left anonymously

on the nightstand next to a cup of coffee with steam

swirling above the caramel surface. It is a

gently ticking clock, pewter with generous black

numerals on a white face, outstretched hands

beckoning to a place out of time.

Back to the carpet of camellia petals strewn across

the yard, to the startling yellow ginkgo tree on the

Episcopal church grounds, to the perfume of nutmeg,

clove and cardamon in a dense loaf of tea bread.

Back to mist shrouded mornings giving way to

golden afternoons, October disappearing into

brocaded, bejeweled November in a flurry of

sweet ghosts and remembered saints.

If this is a treatise on joy, it is also one of sorrow.

Of daylight and darkness, of the empty place at

the table, the toys boxed and placed in the attic,

the bulbs planted yesterday that will not break

ground until spring. At the very same time, it is

the sweet serendipity of a few more pages read

while curled up in the old wingback chair, of the

scarf finally knitted to fruition, of curried

carrot soup simmering on the stove.

©julie degni marr 2005

Pump up the Vitamin C

2011-11-02T20:50:00.005-04:00

In order to make this crazy world work for you and not against you, you must decide what matters to you most and focus your attention on that. - from Crazy Busy by Edward M. Hallowell, M.D.

I had the great fortune to hear Harvard-educated psychiatrist Ned Hallowell speak this past Sunday. He's brilliant and eloquent, kind-hearted and totally down-to-earth. While he's written several excellent books, probably the best-known is Crazy Busy. Here are just a few nuggets of insight from his talk:

1. We are conditioned not to linger, ponder, reflect, go deeper.

2. If we are not careful, our lives will become superficialized.

3. Nothing can match the human moment. It is 1000x more powerful than an electronic moment. Make judicious use of it. Commit to connecting to one another.

4. We need daily megadoses of Vitamin C (connect!) which is free and infinite. It helps us feel better, live longer, sleep better and do better at work, school, etc.

5. Getting rid of anger and resentment frees you for other things.

6. Saying 'no' allows for 'yes' to things that matter most to you. Just one cancellation can offer rejuvenation.

7. The biggest change in our world today is the obliteration of boundaries.

8. Your pain can be your biggest source of learning. Befriend it.

9. Create time. If you don't take control of your time, it will be taken from you.

oh joy

2011-10-31T20:33:00.002-04:00

Sometimes joy comes in a blue wrapper and offers up sweet memories of Halloweens past, of plastic pumpkin buckets full of candy and polyester costumes depicting cartoon characters, of the year a friend disguised as a pirate popped out and scared our bunny pajama-clad baby to tears. Some traditions we may outgrow, but never the hot dogs for dinner on Halloween night, a pop of bright orange color in the day's outfit and the palm-sized happiness of an Almond Joy.

treat yourself

2011-10-28T15:31:00.003-04:00

You don't get much fallier than this, the weekend before Halloween. Like it's straight out of casting central, ours comes complete with grey skies, a 20-degree temperature drop and wind whistling through the trees. Here's a pumpkin latte recipe from a beautiful blog for your Saturday afternoon sipping pleasure. Make sure there's a good mystery in that pile of books you've been wanting to read and be sure to venture out for a special candle - like Henri Bendel's Fig or Cinnamon Bark or Firewood - to light in remembrance next Tuesday, All Saints Day.

blanket statement

2011-10-26T13:21:00.005-04:00

When the weather turned cool, I bought the pale pumpkin-colored throw on top of this stack from West Elm to 'throw' over the arm of the couch. They call it Tigerlily, which I think is especially pretty. I would adore one in any hue! We're big on blankets at our house, or 'blanies' as the kids still call them. There's a quilted pink one from the Hendersonville market circa 1991, a creamy polyester (!) number that I try to hide behind big pillows, and a soft white one that's now just tattered bits and pieces of its former glory. All seem to provide as much comfort as ever. Like a blanket, there are some people whose mere presence invokes a secure feeling (miss you, Dad). There are books and foods and places, too, that we turn to time and again for comfort. The Wind in the Willows, maybe, or stories by Alexander McCall Smith and Rosamunde Pilcher. Gingerbread right out of the oven, a certain kind of tea, a cabin by the river. Whatever yours may be, conjure up some comforts this fall. Let them wrap around you like a blanket.

autumn reverie

2011-10-25T07:46:00.004-04:00

A is for autumn, deserving of an A+ grade in any year. Autumn's a well-worn denim jacket, hanging from a wooden peg, at the ready whenever there's a minute to spend outdoors. It's bouquets of bright orange and gold mums, thistles and yarrow, with a twisty grapevine branch tucked in. There's pumpkin soup with a dollop of creme fraiche and a sprinkling of pumpkin seeds. And apple pie for dessert, adorned with pastry hearts on the crust. Picture a gypsy wagon, a fortune-telling booth at the state fair, a bowl chock full of Halloween candy on the foyer table. It's the chilly thrill of a ghost story, a wood fire, long rambling walks wrapped up in a soft, mulberry-colored poncho and coming home to cozy. Revel in these glory days of autumn.

acting like Audrey

2011-10-24T09:48:00.008-04:00

Of all the reasons to adore Audrey Hepburn, from her classic movie roles to her iconic sense of style, this sweet picture book written by Margaret Cardillo and illustrated by Julia Denos, goes beneath the surface to celebrate her kind and loving spirit. After a distinguished acting career and raising two cherished children, Audrey could have rested on countless laurels, but instead became an eloquent ambassador for UNICEF, bettering the lives of children around the world. What an amazing second act and life well-lived. What a marvelous way to be remembered.

follow your signs

2011-10-23T09:49:00.009-04:00

(image: weheartit.com)

"To live authentically each of us must be aware of our "within." We need to become conscious of feeling content, safe, and in the right place, and of feeling lonely, disillusioned, or mildly depressed. In front of turmoil, what do we do? Wise teachers tell us to be very attentive at these moments, to be open to "signs," feelings, comments, a line in a book, unexpected meetings or events that may move us to consider new directions, to refind balance, and to remain fully alive. Spiritual signs have four characteristics: They are simple not complicated, persistent, seemingly impossible, and always about others as well as ourselves. Be attentive when you experience these on your journey. Try to recognize an opportunity as well as a difficulty. Try not to respond too quickly. Pray for wisdom." - Henri Nouwen, from Home Tonight: Further Reflections on the Parable of The Prodigal Son

12 before 2012

2011-10-21T19:28:00.005-04:00

In case you haven't noticed the fully decorated artificial trees lurking at the periphery of the Halloween section at Target, there are only 2 months and change left in this year. This causes all kinds of emotions to bubble up, from bewilderment and befuddlement to sheer panic. Where has the time gone and what have I truly accomplished? Inspired by the warm and wonderful Hello, Friend blog, I've created a list of 12 things, big and small, that I am determined to complete by December 31st. It feels good: doable, quantifiable, self-accountable. I think there's a certain alchemy to writing the goals down and openly putting them out there in the universe. Consider making your own list and let me know how it goes for you these last good weeks of 2011. We can cheer each other on.

{My list of 12 before 2012}

1. finish manuscript of children's book about Dr. Mac

2. take the rollerblades out for a spin at least once a week

3. ride my bike to work on nice days

4. determine, with Mike and the kids, a way to honor Cocoa's life

5. finish out Ruffy's dog obedience lessons

6. attend Pittman McGehee seminar in early November

7. run in the 5k Thanksgiving morning Turkey Trot

8. query Garden & Gun magazine about writing an article on

'The Two Elizabeths,' Elizabeth Lawrence and Elizabeth Clarkson

9. begin writing a play about 'The Two Elizabeths'

10. contact a few key companies about writer-in-residence services

11. learn how to make homemade marshmallows to give

cellophane bags full of 'Marrshmallows' at the holidays

12. not miss a single Wednesday morning faith class

Magnifidog

2011-10-13T07:26:00.006-04:00

Earthly life is wrenchingly short. Love lasts forever. Cocoa 2001 - 2011.

simple, doable, durable

2011-10-09T21:02:00.007-04:00

We can all find and nurture a quiet, sacred space at the center of our lives where we experience connection to God. This is what I learned from author, pastor and social justice activist Brian McLaren, who spoke at church this morning. He talked about ways to deepen faith with daily spiritual practices that are simple, doable and durable, each rooted in a single word. The first is 'here.' And here's how it works: you simply show up to the moment - any moment - and hold an awareness: I am here, God. You are here. We are here together. Regardless of what is swirling around you. All twelve practices/words are outlined in his book, Naked Spirituality, which is about stripping away the distractions and non-essentials to get to God. It's not about finding time to do these things, he said, it's about claiming your time. So simple. Yet amazing.

(The Chapel at Sewanee on an October evening, 2011)

2011-10-07T20:32:00.000-04:00

the art of living

2011-10-06T11:11:00.004-04:00

Romare Bearden might have been recollecting a day just like today while creating this beautiful collage. The hundredth anniversary of his birth is being celebrated across the country right now, nowhere more joyfully than here in Mecklenburg County where he was born. His family moved to Harlem when he was quite young, but he returned often throughout his life to visit and even more often in his art. I've enjoyed learning more about Romare Bearden, someone whose work, and spirit, I've long admired. He graduated from NYU and became a social worker, then a published writer. He loved books and cats and jazz. He cherished the most ordinary everyday details and had a very strong sense of place. His life seems to me kind of a collage, with brilliant colors, lots of texture and layer upon layer of vivid memories. A work of art. (Mecklenburg Autumn: October - Toward Paw Creek by Romare Bearden, 1983)

sorting life into words

2011-10-05T09:01:00.007-04:00

There's a direct correlation between how much pleasure writing (i.e., this blog!) is getting done and how much I am paying attention to, processing and honoring life. For you, it may be how many pages read or rows knitted, the number of miles logged on the jogging path or how often you've picked up the paintbrush lately. For all of us, there's some barometer of how much we're engaged in the details of daily life and not just hurtling through on automatic. I recently marked the three-year anniversary of coming to this spot pretty consistently to check in with life. What I've realized is that I need it much more than it needs me. And that consistently showing up makes a world of difference.

officially autumn

2011-09-22T21:57:00.006-04:00

Falling in love all over again with fall. Three months aren't nearly enough to savor this season of the senses. Why just today there were pumpkin doughnuts at our misty morning breakfast meeting and snappy North Carolina apples at the Farmer's Market. There's a tinge of harvest color on the maples and the air is scented with tea olive perfume. Put a bundle of bittersweet in a silver vase on the table in the foyer, a nubby orange blanket over the arm of the couch. Toss a sweater on your shoulders. Think comfort and cozy. On the back burner, tomato soup simmers in a white ceramic stock pot while pumpernickel croutons are toasting in the oven.

(artwork is a favorite painting by my sister, Michele Kingery)

dear dog

2011-09-20T08:22:00.002-04:00

Isn't he the darlingest dog ever? It's easy to see why postal clerks considered 'Owney' their good luck charm. He showed up at the Albany, New York, Post Office in the 1880s and rode for years in postal wagons and trains, helping to deliver the mail. He's still crisscrossing the country and even traveling around the world, now memorialized in a first class stamp. Good dogs stick with us forever in the heart.

there's something about Mary

2011-09-10T08:02:00.003-04:00

Today is her birthday, and if you don't know the writing of Mary Oliver, please give yourself a gift. Sit outside in the clear September air and read a poem or two or ten of hers, starting with The Journey and Wild Geese. Unwrap each word tenderly, just the way it was written. She'll take you into the church of the natural world, where every tattered leaf and seashell fragment has meaning, and remind you that your life does, too.

(photograph by Rachel Giese)

flower power

2011-09-04T09:47:00.003-04:00

This is a clipboard collage for my friend who is going through chemotherapy. She has endured so much and has much more to go, yet it hasn't diminished her smile by a single kilowatt. Her spirit, either. She has a deep faith, a fabulous fashion sense and a flair for making others feel special, especially my own two teenagers. She comes from a family that has been in the floral business for generations. Beth is sunshine in the garden of life.

Dear September,

2011-09-02T07:51:00.004-04:00

Hello September,

Welcome mellow mornings and a return to routine. Here's to the school buses rumbling by at dawn with tender sleepy faces peering out. To the zeitgist of high school football, Tigers roaming The Domain again, a ceremonial sip from the Old Well to get good grades. To cinnamon-dusted doughnuts and long evening walks, a jumbled recipe file, getting reacquainted with the kitchen.

There's a hint of color in the North Carolina mountains and a mist hangs over SkyTop Orchard where they ladle melted caramel over tart apples, cored and fanned out like a chrysanthemum in a bowl. September pays homage to the cerebral and the curious, to those who sit in the front row and take notes that look like art, who dream of reading every book in the library and maybe writing one, too. It's a plaid lunchbox and an old wooden desk waxed until it shines, a Carl Sandburg poem, a James Taylor song. September is worth waiting for all year long.

(image: http://weheartit.com)

la dolce vita

2011-08-29T21:32:00.005-04:00

Notes from the life of a middle-aged Italian woman. I like a strong cup of coffee in the morning and a piece of toast with preserves made from summer's cherries. I have to have a good book going at all times and something to knit. A dog at my feet is comforting. I cherish my holy figurines and say my prayers. It's true, I also worship my kids. I dream of going to the old country one day. And of becoming an old Italian woman, with time.

Enrolling at Wonderful U

2011-08-28T19:49:00.004-04:00

Why should college kids have all the fun? While I wouldn't want to go back to communal living, cafeteria fare and Calculus, it occurs to me that there are a lot of lessons that can be gleaned from the university setting when it comes to composing a life out here in the real world. Here are my notes:

1. Pick a course of study. Learning doesn't end at graduation, it just becomes more personal and self-directed. Come up with something new to delve into, like nutrition, racquet ball, calligraphy, comparative religion or Native American history. Your brain craves this and will pay you back in wellbeing.

2. Keep up with your reading. I've committed to reading a book a week this year. It's something I love to do, but always seem to get side-tracked by things like unloading the dishwasher or watching a rerun of American Pickers on the History Channel. Not anymore, Bub, because I've got a plan and I'm working my plan.

3. Check in with your advisor. Don't try to go it alone. That's what God, trusted friends and family members, mentors, ministers and therapists are for: to listen and guide. Let go and let them.

4. Make new friends. If your list of contacts hasn't changed since you first got a cell phone, it's time to add some new lives to your life. While you're at it, make sure they aren't all carbon copies of you. Where's the fun in that?

5. Put effort into your social life. The world will not come seek you out in your dorm room/cubicle/condo. Check out a new band, start a supper club, take a loaf of banana bread to the neighbors. Make sure your people-connections are stronger than your internet connection.

6. Major in something you love. Whatever you're passionate about, put your energy there. Good things will happen.

7. Walk everywhere or take a bike. The more active you are, the healthier and happier you'll be. All you need is sneakers and a Schwinn.

8. Stay in touch with the folks back home. They love you more than you'll ever know.

juiciness

2011-08-21T18:26:00.006-04:00

Neighbors Marla and John hosted August 'Supper Club' today with a fabulous Sunday brunch, to which I was charged with bringing lemon bars. The irony wasn't lost on me, while baking early this morning, that it felt like life had thrown a few lemons my way as we delivered Italia to her freshman year of college yesterday. The rational part of me is thrilled that she's launched into an exhilarating next chapter, but mostly I'm wondering where the sunshine will be without her clouds of perfume and constant smile, her inside/outside beauty and all of that everyday love.

Not wanting to completely disappear down the rabbit hole of loss and sadness, I willed my thoughts back to the kitchen, back to Sunday morning and the lemons at hand. I thought about how much I adore the way, when piled in a pretty white bowl, they brighten a room. How they make me think of Italy and the citrus groves of Florida and a van Gogh painting. How crazy I am about their flavor, zest and juiciness - qualities I need to cultivate in life, like Italia does. All of that seemed like just what I needed to remember today and somehow it showed up.

Later, during coffee and dessert, my friend Susu happened to tell me that it's actually quite easy to grow a Meyer Lemon tree, that I'd be surprised how big and luscious the fruit gets and how much there is of it. I think I'll go looking for one this week at Campbell's Greenhouse. I've got the perfect spot for it.

(Still Life with Lemons on a Plate by Vincent van Gogh, 1887)

i surely do

2011-08-15T09:04:00.004-04:00

Anniversary flowers, every petal a sweet memory.

home sweet office

2011-08-08T17:45:00.002-04:00

This is the moving announcement Arkon and I sent out today. So good to be settling in and anticipating a super productive and successful third and fourth quarter!

(click on image to enlarge)

humming right along

2011-08-04T09:12:00.004-04:00

Summer's waning without me even once having filled the hummingbird feeder. Yet, there a tiny one was the other evening, hovering over it for a good minute or two before flitting away. I quickly ran and made a sugar solution to put out and am hopeful he'll find his way back and even bring friends. This made me think how sometimes the things we neglect are right there waiting for us if we choose to show up and notice.

A lithograph by John Gould of Poortman's Emerald Hummingbird, Plate 358 from A Monograph of the Trochilidae or Humming Birds (volume 5, 1861)

it's in the cards

2011-07-31T08:29:00.003-04:00

My friend Diane gave me a box of these wonderful cards and now I'm going to turn around and mail one right back to her because she's the definition of marvelous. Of course I turned them right over to see who the designer was, which led me to this adorable blog. Before I knew it, I'd fallen down a rabbit hole of ideas and inspiration. Gratitude, appreciation, creativity, love. What more could a person ever need?

little shop of creativity

2011-07-29T21:43:00.008-04:00

We moved offices today and while ours doesn't (yet!) look like this picturesque workspace out of West Elm, it is shaping up to be fresh, creative, inspiring, uplifting, vibrant, perfect. For nearly two years, StewartMarr has been tucked away in a savvy and elegant architecture firm that we never wanted to leave. But the building was sold last spring so Arkon and I half-heartedly set out to find new digs. I'm happy to report that this has truly been a case of one door closing and another, this one with a cheery yellow awning over it, opening. It's a small brick building with our own entrance and a tiny patio. Best of all, it's situated along Charlotte's Little Sugar Creek Greenway and, on a cool autumn day, will be just a short bike ride from home. Things could not have worked out better.

memories in the key of life

2011-07-21T15:59:00.004-04:00

A girl always remembers her first love. Mine has been immortalized in a new postage stamp series along with 11 other iconic products of American industrial design. Sometimes I pine for the clickety clack soundtrack of that IBM Selectric, the pile of onion skin paper next to it and the exuberant feeling that life was a juicy novel yet to be typed.

on a wing and a prayer

2011-07-20T16:39:00.003-04:00

Walking through the Wright Brothers Memorial last week in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, I marveled at the intelligence, perseverance and daring of Wilbur and Orville. Before that historic first flight in 1903, the brothers had to solve three major problems: lift, power and control. While theirs was an engineering and physics conundrum, it occurred to me that the same variables apply to so many other feats that we attempt in life. Things like love and friendship, parenthood, careers, callings, creativity. It's good to not only know what lifts us up, but to be willing to be lifted. We need to acknowledge our own power, yet rest in the Power, capital P, that passeth understanding. And be able to roll with things that can't, or needn't, be controlled. If we can manage to do these things, then we may truly know what it feels like to soar.

a-flutter

2011-07-08T07:08:00.003-04:00

You probably can't tell that it's actually a ring, but this butterfly fluttered right out of Nordstrom's and onto my hand last winter when Mike got it for me as a Valentine present. It seemed silly to have developed a crush on butterflies all of a sudden at age 49, but then I read that they are a symbol of transition and change. Things a person floats through continually in life but which seem especially poignant at middle age. Also lightness, celebration and soul. So if you come across a woman who seems to have had a butterfly alight on her hand, that would be me, just trying to make my way toward the sunshine and the hollyhocks.

postscript

2011-07-05T14:00:00.003-04:00

After hearing an interview with Suzanne Marrs, Millsaps College professor and Eudora Welty scholar, on the Diane Rehm show, I know I will have to get this book and get lost in the correspondence between one of my favorite icons/writers/women/individuals and one of her closest friends.

sparkle

2011-07-04T07:54:00.002-04:00

Guests still toss birdseed and flower petals at afternoon weddings, but a friend told me that a new trend is for the bride and groom to leave an evening reception in a blaze of sparkler glow. How fun and festive is that! Here's to things that sparkle, twinkle, glitter and glow. From Dad's eyes to the little white lights in a restaurant courtyard, to fireflies, fireworks, sequins, gold bangles, silver sandals, votive candles, cut crystal and colorful Japanese paper lanterns hanging from the porch. Happy Fourth of July!

sunny days

2011-07-02T07:33:00.004-04:00

Say you're driving along a country road on a July morning. Could be in South Carolina or the south of France. Round a curve and there it is: a huge field of sunflowers. As vivid as a van Gogh painting. Happiness is like that. Cultivate it like you would a friendship or a hobby or an acre of sunflowers. It'll grow on you.

(from The Little Guide To Happy ©StewartMarr. Sunflowers by Vincent van Gogh, 1887)

la dolce day

2011-07-01T12:49:00.004-04:00

When planning a perfect summer day, you can never go wrong by asking "what would an Italian do?" There would be a delicious seasonal treat like figs, maybe even wrapped in prosciutto and drizzled with honey. There'd be a sweet dog following at your heels, a good book to read, fresh flowers on the foyer table. And, always, an iced coffee in the late afternoon.

(click on image to enlarge)

are we having fun yet?

2011-06-30T14:12:00.005-04:00

It's funny to be facing July Fourth weekend feeling like I've nearly forgotten how to have fun. Back in the day I was actually quite good at it. I roller skated like a fiend, jumped rope, pogo sticked and played endless games of Authors and Old Maid, Clue, Score Four, Masterpiece and Monopoly. I splashed entire days away in the Palma Ceia pool, loved racquet ball, hit a few golf and tennis balls, rode a tandem bike, rode the waves in a 14-ft Hobie Cat sailboat with my dad, gathered shells on Sanibel and Anna Maria Islands, dove for scallops in Tarpon Springs and even water-skiied across crystal clear Kingsley Lake. Just thinking about those times - and that girl - is fun. And a reminder that there's more where that came from.

along for the ride

2011-06-26T23:00:00.004-04:00

We've been starring in our own version of CARS around here with two teenage Volvos giving out in the same month. The kindly mechanic finally told us he didn't have the heart or the conscience to make another repair on either one based on their value. So now there's a new kid on the block, a frisky blue Toyota Forerunner, circa 2006, with a mere 31,000 miles on him and an extended warranty for parental peace o' mind. The kids are in heaven. Our sedan was in such bad shape that it actually had to be towed in to be traded in. The station wagon, though, we drove to the dealership. There was a pang as we left her, remembering all of the miles spelunked as a family and then what a trusty steward it was of our high school drivers who considered it the nadir of coolness. There were memories of the groceries hauled, trips to the vet, the mall, the beach, to elementary school, Sunday school, sports practices, through the drive-through line at Chik-fila. The wheels of life turn, turn, turn. The key is in keeping track of the smiles per gallon.

peachy

2011-06-19T08:47:00.011-04:00

Mom and Walter brought me some peaches from Clover on Friday, sweetest things imaginable. I thought I'd make Walter a cobbler for Father's Day and one for Mike and the boys before Italia and I left for orientation at Chapel Hill. So I dug out my trusty recipe and then had to laugh out loud. It's typed up on Merrill Lynch stationery because that's where I worked that summer with the greatest southern lady ever - Lynda Medlin - who said it was so easy she could make it with her eyes closed. I mailed the recipe to my sister because we were both in love, both trying to learn how to cook and both loved to write. You can tell how many years have passed, because it involves typing, letters and daydreaming! Here's the preamble to peach cobbler that I scribbled to Michele to set up the recipe lo these many peach seasons ago:

It's 4:40 in the afternoon and you're pulling the last sun-dried cotton sheet off the line. Sprigs of hair are falling out of your bandana and your gingham blouse is damp with sweat. But your man is due in from the fields (hospital, law office, classroom, etc.) any minute and you can't sit down in front of the Hunter fan with a cold glass of lemonade as much as you want to. A woman's work is never done and her man comes first. That's why you run yourself a bath, put on your best ruffled blouse and pleated skirt bought last summer at the TG&Y in Siler City, dab Evening in Paris behind each ear and start putting supper on the table.

A three-bean salad is already prepared and chilling in the icebox. You grease up your seasoned cast iron pans and stir up enough batter for a dozen corn sticks (any extras can be tucked in his lunch tomorrow), and put them on to bake, then get going on the stuffed peppers. Why the size of those things could win a blue ribbon at the Cleveland County Home Extension Show! Next it's time to steep the tea and mix up a gallon or so in that big old glass mayonnaise jar Mabel was kind enough to save you from the Ebenezer Baptist Church covered dish supper last month. Strong and sweet - just like your man - and about the only thing likely to quench his thirst after a day as hot as today. And for dessert, being summer and all, he'd be disappointed if your homemade peach cobbler wasn't bubbling away in the oven:

Cobbler

1 stick butter

1 cup sugar

1 cup self-rising floud

1 cup milk

2 cups chopped peaches

Melt butter in large baking dish. Mix together sugar, flour and milk and pour over melted butter but do not mix. Spoon fruit over the top. Bake approximately 40 minutes at 350 degrees.

(Adorable Anthropologie dishtowels)

moment(ous)

2011-06-12T11:51:00.004-04:00

On any momentous occasion, there's usually a particular moment that stands out, capturing the spirit of things. Amid a sea of green caps and gowns, from high up in balcony seats, it wasn't easy to spot our graduate at her commencement ceremony. Once I did, though, my eyes stayed glued to the back of her head. The retiring athletic director gave a warm and meaningful keynote address. Even though you email, text, Skype and love to talk on your cell phones, he advised the class of nearly six hundred, never forget how precious it is to send a letter. At that very moment, Italia turned around and looked straight up at me, a smile lighting her face like a chandelier. It was like a serendipitous secret message for just the two of us because we both love a note. Writing one or getting one. We both love pens and paper and stringing words into a message. We even made notecards for her friends for their graduation present. It's one of a gajillion things I'm going to miss when she goes away to college. The poking around in a great stationery store. The quest for cute postage stamps. The sharing of a rainbow of Sharpie markers. The beautiful cards she makes for her friends. It's not going to be the same, but I'm sure we will email, text, Skype and talk by cell phone. And there'll be precious letters, too.

everyday masterpieces

2011-06-09T22:17:00.005-04:00

More than six million people view the portrait of Mona Lisa each year at the Musee du Louvre in Paris. A masterpiece painted by Leonardo da Vinci during the Renaissance, it is probably the most famous painting in the world. I haven't seen her in person, but hope to one day. Dear ones who have tell me that it's an experience they'll treasure forever. Granted, most aren't on such a grand scale, but we've all got a masterpiece in us. A lady who lived around the corner created a beloved, nationally recognized garden. For my client, it's the family recipe pimento cheese that she's selling in 200 stores now. My friend Sandra sings beautifully and creates the most poignant videos. Then there are the little masterpieces painted each day without a second thought: a nurturing meal, flowers from the yard tossed together in a happy bouquet, a call or note that lightens a heart, a child out in the world who feels loved, just because of you.

go climb a tree

2011-06-07T10:45:00.004-04:00

Every summer should include some tree climbing, both the literal leafy kind and the metaphorical tree-of-knowledge kind. Best of all would be enjoying a book up in the branches, in a tree house or even a hammock. Pass the cold lemonade and a good mystery! Today is the last meeting of the Bookendipity Book Club at Rama Road Elementary and Italia and I have had the best time compiling a list of summer reading ideas for the 4th and 5th graders. It includes old school series like Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys along with some newer gems listed below. Makes me want to pull a wicker chair out under the magnolia tree and read until the fireflies come out. If you need me, that's where to come looking.

The Young Man and the Sea by Rodman Philbrick

A boy is building a boat and refuses to give up despite heartbreak and setbacks.

The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart

In this fantastic series, four friends go on adventures to solve big mysteries and learn about themselves.

The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick

Hugo lives in a Paris train station in this amazing book that is told mostly in gorgeous pictures.

The Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo

This is a fantastical tale about a mouse who is in love with music, stories and a princess.

Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis

Set in the Great Depression, Buddy goes on a journey to find his father with lots of twists and turns along the way.

Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech

Sal is a 13-year-old girl whose only wish is to be reunited with her mother.

Missing May by Cynthia Rylant

May was a "big barrel of nothing by love" and this is a story about how her family adjusts to life after she's gone.

Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli

She's magical and strange and mysterious, and is shunned for being different.

(info on precious bookcase here)

in full bloom

2011-06-06T21:41:00.008-04:00

If friends are flowers, Katie is a bright pink peony. The kind you dream about all year until it bursts into joyful bloom sometime around June. Just by being in it, she makes a garden of delight out of this old life. A bouquet of us daisies and day lilies, gardenias, hollyhocks and hydrangeas gathered to celebrate her last Saturday and here's a petal or two of why we love her so much and why - if you knew her - you most certainly would, too:

1. she's a fabulous writer . . . getting a note from her is like a present

2. she thinks teenagers are especially wonderful creatures (which makes her an extraordinary high school guidance counselor and a saving grace to beleaguered parents)

3. she puts her whole heart into each moment

and what she's doing in it

4. she loves her children and husband madly . . .

and her University of Virginia Cavaliers

5. she has a wicked sense of humor and loves to laugh,

especially at herself

6. she makes you feel like the most important person in the world

when you're in her presence . . . and even when you're not

7. she's a high-beam flashlight during any dark night of the soul

8. she's got a wellspring of loving goodness inside

that never seems to go dry

9. she doesn't get caught up in the pettiness of this world,

which makes her a bit of heaven

ticket to a better life

2011-05-29T08:09:00.003-04:00

It's not a feel-good movie. The main character, an 84-year-old African man, has too many excruciating memories for that. But I would call The First Grader a feel-hopeful movie. Based on a true story, it opens with Maruge, a Mau Mau veteran, receiving a letter from the government which he cannot read. Hoping to become literate, he tries to attend the free primary school just opened by the government and all kind of problems ensue. There is tragedy, drama, beauty, humor. The two main actors are marvelous. The soundtrack is haunting and exquisite. For the price of your ticket, you'll leave cherishing a free education, great teachers, the gift of being able to read and write, and - above all - freedom.

love letters

2011-05-26T13:28:00.005-04:00

Don't you {heart} these brand new love stamps? They came out on Monday, just in time for graduation announcements, June brides, summer birthday cards. Maybe even a long overdue love letter or two.

still life

2011-05-21T07:52:00.004-04:00

Like Matisse, and maybe you, I have a pink tablecloth, a cake stand, a blue and white ginger jar, lemons and flowers. The only thing I need is the gift of seeing it all through an artist's eyes. And that's something that can be cultivated.

(The Pink Tablecloth by Henri Matisse, 1925)

immediacy

2011-05-20T10:10:00.006-04:00

I'll admit to being a tad rattled this week with new puppy, poison ivy (again!), car trouble, a work deadline. Nothing unmanageable, just life coming from every direction at its usual warp speed. Then I remember my friend Suzanne who thinks of author and artist Tasha Tudor when she feels overwhelmed and tries considering the world right around her at the smallest, most immediate level. How mountain-y cool it is this morning from last night's rain. How good the coffee tastes. How sweetly exhausting the puppy is. How nice it feels just to sit and relax and watch her play. How the hydrangea bush seems to have bloomed overnight, an even brighter shade of purple than last spring.

curry favor at the dinner hour

2011-05-18T08:36:00.003-04:00

It's the eternal question. No, not "What is the meaning of life?" but rather 'What's for dinner?" Today I have a great answer for you, a recipe that never fails to perfume the house with fragrant goodness, win compliments and make happy those gathered around the table. I like to serve it with bright yellow rice and roast a tray of sliced carrots in the oven while the chicken is cooking. Somehow, when we're together, eating and enjoying each other for a moment of time, it really is possible to catch a glimpse of the eternal.

Chicken Diablo

3 lbs. chicken breasts, skin on

4 tablespoons of butter

1/2 cup honey

1/4 cup dijon mustard

1 teaspoon curry powder

1 teaspoon salt

Melt butter and stir in remaining ingredients. Arrange chicken in 13 x 9 casserole dish, meaty side up. Pour mixture over chicken. Bake 1 hour in 375-degree oven or until richly glazed.

puppy luv

2011-05-15T13:35:00.004-04:00

Not all surprises that show up in life are as sweet and snuffly as Rutherford. Found wandering lost and alone in the woods of Tennessee, she now has a permanent home here with us. Having a new puppy is similar in many ways to settling in with a baby, from trying to sort out a feeding schedule to getting up in the wee hours to take her out. She even managed to find the few vestiges of plush and pink still remaining in our house of teenagers! Cocoa seems to be coping, something that Chocolate Labs do so well, despite a steady barrage of ear-nipping. We secretly think she's tickled.

may morning

2011-05-07T06:59:00.003-04:00

Saturday morning in May. A good cup of coffee is a must, and a pair of trusty sneakers. A corner of the patio works fine as an al fresco cafe. Put a leaf of soft, silvery green lamb's ear to your cheek and a pink peony in a vase. Oh, and don't forget the blueberries.

(click on image to enlarge)

full of promise

2011-04-29T12:43:00.005-04:00

We the people love beginnings. Yet for all of the attendant anticipation, promise and hope, they're so fleeting. Except for a pomp here and a circumstance there, life mainly happens in the ever after. Happily, every 24 hours presents a shining new opportunity to love and cherish each other and the world around us. So toss the birdseed and pour the bubbly: today really is the most important day of your life.

(image mirror.co.uk)

good intentions

2011-04-27T16:26:00.005-04:00

The intent was to have an impromptu Saturday morning brunch to celebrate Italia's 18th birthday. The icing was having Ali's Dad, who teaches yoga at the Y, come by and give these yoga-loving girls a mini-lesson they could takeaway and repeat any time, anywhere, as they prepare to leap from high school into the bigger world. Even Cocoa got in on the act by rolling around in the backyard with her paws in the air, the original Down Dog pose! There were strawberry smoothies before, a big breakfast after, and then vanilla cupcakes sprinkled with pastel candies. There was laughter and friendship. Everyone stretched and breathed and learned about choosing an intention before hitting the mat. "Think about something you need in your life at this moment," Tracy told them. "Is it peace? Courage? Inner strength to deal with a problem? Joy? Whatever it is, keep that in your mind as you do the yoga poses."

Intention is a concept that keeps bubbling up in my life these days and maybe in yours, too. Living with it, to be precise: an aim or purpose, a directing of the mind to a desired outcome. A powerful, attentive awareness that can be applied not only to yoga, but to work, chores, learning, relaxation, relationships, all of life. It was a very enlightening birthday celebration. What a gift we give to ourselves by living with intention.

create a great day

2011-04-25T15:36:00.005-04:00

Got a case of the Mondays? Speaking from experience, precautionary measures must be taken to ward off this dreaded malaise. Breathe deep and stretch. Have something super healthy for breakfast, preferably sprinkled with berries for an antioxidant boost. Double up on the Vitamin C (c for cappuccino and creativity). Dress brightly. Accessorize with a smile and a positive attitude. Treat self and others with tender loving kindness. Put a small vase of freshly cut mint on the desk for a boost of aromatic energy. Put your heart into the day's activities. It'll be Tuesday before we know it. In which case, repeat.

2011-04-24T16:57:00.000-04:00

Easter tidings

2011-04-24T15:31:00.002-04:00

"We must go rejoicing in the blessings of this world, chief of which is the mystery, the magic, the majesty, and the miracle that is life." - Wyatt Cooper

Good Friday

2011-04-22T07:08:00.005-04:00

Most somber of days. According to the Gospel of Mark, Jesus was sentenced to death at approximately nine in the morning on Good Friday and the terrible ordeal culminated at three o'clock that afternoon. Today at church we will shuffle as a group through the Stations of the Cross, tracing the events of that tragic day. A big wooden cross will be dragged among us from one station to the next. The service always ends in the garden where my Dad and so many other loved ones are buried. Such a stark commemoration there among the beauty of dogwood trees, Lenten roses and azaleas. And, today, beneath bleak gray skies and teardrops of rain.

(Christ Carrying the Cross by El Greco - Domenikos Theotokopoulos, 1580)

happy meals

2011-04-21T16:21:00.008-04:00

How did homemade become just a wistful, nostalgic idea associated with aproned generations gone by? Why have we become so accepting of additives, chemicals and flavorings that we've nearly let our collective health go to hell in a picnic basket? Have we fooled ourselves into thinking we don't have the time, energy and wherewithal to get a meal on the table? That's it's just too much trouble? That eating out is faster, more fun and sometimes even cheaper? I sure have. So I took three minutes and brainstormed the list of favorite breakfast, lunch and anytime recipes below. Inexpensive. Fairly nutritious. Simple. Delicious. Quick. May it inspire you to rise above the kitchen quandary. Food is a main ingredient of life. Have the happier meal.

oatmeal with butter & brown sugar

buttered toast with a poached egg on top

crunchy peanut butter on a banana

apples and brie and almonds

yogurt and a tangerine

a bacon & Swiss quiche

spinach salad with strawberries & citrus dressing

prosciutto-wrapped roasted asparagus spears

marinated broccoli cauliflower salad

Greek salad in a pita pocket

a grilled cheese sandwich

hummus & carrots

black bean soup

tomato basil pie

lemon pasta

an omelet

(you can order this sweet recipe box from Sugar Paper)

taste of spring

2011-04-20T07:19:00.006-04:00

No wonder Mr. McGregor chased Peter Rabbit out of his garden . . . he undoubtedly knew the deliciousness of a salad made with just-picked lettuce. There's nothing like it to satisfy a craving to live healthy. Ours isn't a poster family for the perfect diet, but I do believe that what happens in the kitchen makes a whole lot of difference in the all-around wholeness of life. If I keep things there simple, fresh, made from scratch (and especially with love, as the wonderful Jamie Oliver likes to say), maybe those same attributes will spill over into my work and relationships. A great place to start is with this salad dressing recipe by Jamie. Couldn't be easier. Just shake the ingredients together in an empty jam jar and drizzle over spring greens.

Mustard & Herb Vinegar Dressing

6 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons Dijon mustard

2 tablespoons red or white wine herb vinegar

1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

1 teaspoon salt

(image is from Walter's garden, Ridgewood Ave.)

spreading the word

2011-04-18T06:54:00.003-04:00

Here's the dish on a recent project at StewartMarr, a campaign for Augusta's Pimento Cheese. Traditionally served on crackers or celery, and famous for it's cameo sandwich appearance at the Master's Golf Tournament, pimento cheese is a southern classic that is capturing the fancy of foodies everywhere these days. The best way to describe it? A dollop of delicious. We're helping Suzie Lowe spread her Grandmother Augusta's special family recipe to a new generation and a wider audience. Like the ad says, y'all are in for a treat.

held in the palm of a hand

2011-04-17T11:14:00.007-04:00

On Palm Sunday morning eighteen years ago, Italia was born. A living, breathing, mewing, sacred symbol of resurrection in my own life, which had shut down months earlier when my father died very unexpectedly and very young. It wasn't as if a pink bundle dropped from the heavens and all was well, but she was such a blatant harbinger of hope that all I could do was power forward in faith. I was recently stunned to learn that grief shifts according to a seven-year cycle, which is when I distinctly remember noticing something akin to a peace that passeth understanding. It comes and goes, but once you know that feeling, you know what to crawl toward when you lose it. Palm Sunday starts out so triumphantly and culminates in devastation. It's a familiar scenario to all of us, again and again throughout life, in ways ranging from small to all-encompassing. Pain, disbelief, mourning, emptiness. Life as we knew it, coming to an end. Then, Easter.

the perfect accessory for spring

2011-04-15T15:15:00.004-04:00

Why is it such a backhanded compliment to say that a person wears rose-colored glasses? I'm re-thinking this quasi-negative vibe and have decided that these individuals are the lucky ones. And probably a whole lot more enlightened than most of us. I seem to have misplaced my pair some time ago, the fashion statement I made so faithfully as a girl growing up in Florida, and later as a college student and a young adult, wife, mother. Then the years layered on their responsibilities and worry, stress, busyness and pressure (some real, much of it cooked up), transitions, change. There was loss and the sucker punch of grief. But such joy, too. Now I understand that the people who rise above it all to remain cheerful and hopeful in life are to be admired, commended and emulated. It's hard work and it takes faith, childlike wonder and the wisdom of a sage. Sometimes I've felt like I was wearing blinders on my eyes more than anything else and that's a regret. But not any more. The rose-colored glasses are going back on. I can see clearly now.

faith song

2011-04-10T22:09:00.003-04:00

A bird's song already exists inside the egg in a nest. While I'm not capturing his eloquence whatsoever, this is a take-away thought from a beautiful message by Episcopal priest, Jungian analyst and writer Pittman McGehee who visited Christ Church this weekend. As I understood it, the bird's song is the divine that is present within each of us even before we are born - our gifts, that which gives our lives meaning, our truest self - and we are called to bring this forth in our life. I sat outside in the April sun most of the afternoon, listening to the birds. And hoping to hear a few notes of my own.

(Plate 424 of Birds of America by John James Audubon depicting I. Lazuli Finch - . Crimson-necked Bull-Finch - . Gray-crowned Linnet - . Cow-pen Bird - . Evening Grosbeak - . Brown Longspur)

thinking in the rain

2011-03-30T07:09:00.007-04:00

If not exactly singing in the rain, I'm hoping this week-long deluge drowns out the threat of a summer drought as it busily washes away the layer of neon green pollen on the car, replenishes backyard bird baths and fills the duck pond at Freedom Park. Who knew Mother Nature was such a multi-tasker! On a deeper level, I'd like the rain to wash away my worries and cares, fill the wells of gratitude and creativity, quench my inner thirst with a refreshing drink from the fountain of life. The brightly lit office is a haven today and a lot of work is actually getting done to the comforting sound of Diane Rehm chatting with William Faulkner's niece on NPR. Outside the window, somebody just walked by beneath a big yellow umbrella.

make room for hope

2011-03-27T08:50:00.006-04:00

This is something like the 12th year that Arkon and I have created the annual report for a non-profit organization devoted to expanding affordable housing opportunities in our area. My work week ended on a conversation with Pastor Casey Kimbrough of Mt. Carmel Baptist Church where we discussed the 'Not In My Backyard' arguments against affordable housing. Over the weekend it has occurred to me that our deepest societal struggles are, at heart, faith issues: poverty, hunger, homelessness, illiteracy, racism, loneliness. The answers can only be excavated person by person, heart by heart, attitude by attitude, action by action. Great, lasting change may not happen in this generation or even this life, but thinking, caring and small acts are a start. And allowing plenty of room for hope.

(van Gogh's Room at Arles by Vincent van Gogh, 1889. Musee d' Orsay, Paris)

a fresh start

2011-03-25T15:20:00.006-04:00

Who can resist the lure of beautiful graphics and fabulous scents in the Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day products? I want to buy them all and then come home and work a spring makeover on the house. While I'm at it, why not new sets of white cotton Shabby Chic sheets for all of the beds, the gorgeous beige linen headboard I saw at West Elm, and a pretty new couch for the living room to replace the frumpy lump that's been there for ages? The kitchen door needs a shiny coat of paint (how about turquoise?) with a topiary in an elegant stone planter next to it. I've been dreaming of new wallpaper for the powder room in a beautiful bird print. And am for sure going to order silhouettes of the kids (and Cocoa!) from a cool resource I found online, something I've wanted for ages. It's all because of you, Mrs. Meyer, this frenzy to fix up. You and spring.

the people's poet

2011-03-22T07:08:00.007-04:00

"And when my heart is beating too

rapidly in the dark, I will go

downstairs in a robe,

open up to a blank page,

and try to settle on the blue lines

whatever it is that seems to be the matter."

- Billy Collins, Journal

It's the birthday of former U.S. poet laureate Billy Collins who reminds us of the need to have a place to go to work out the things that weigh on our heart. Maybe yours is a sketchbook, a kitchen counter with measuring spoons laid out, a rectangle of dirt in the backyard where the tomatoes grow, a sewing machine or the pool at the local Y. Doesn't matter, just make sure you have one.

(photo by Marcelo Noah)

the orange shoelaces

2011-03-20T08:01:00.005-04:00

My eighth-grader came home from lacrosse practice last week holding a brand new pair of bright orange shoelaces. Since the Bulldog team colors are red and black, I knew they had to signify something special. And, sadly, they do. One of players on the girls' team has gotten very sick and is in for a rough go of medical treatment. The shoelaces are a sign of solidarity. Since there isn't much information forthcoming from boys at this age, I'll have to find out more in order to truly reach out. As I laced the cleats yesterday, my heart was tied up in knots for the family. It's not fair, I wanted to scream! I made myself focus on the smaller picture: another mother ordering and handing out dozens of pairs of neon bright shoe laces - undoubtedly in a certain someone's favorite color. And the little flashes of orange, like sparks in sunlight, up and down the Saturday afternoon field.

(http://www.shop-eu.puma.com/Heritage-Fat-Shoe-Laces/052042,en,pd.html)

today's your lucky day

2011-03-18T09:11:00.005-04:00

St. Patrick's Day came and went in subtle, work week fashion here - no parade, no green beer or soda bread, forgetting even the symbolic wearing of the green unless eye color counts. But the road rose to meet us, as it always seems to do. We moved through the day in the usual blur of blessings: good health, beautiful sunshine, a carpet of green, green grass that seems to get thicker by the hour in March. We didn't win the lottery, in a literal sense, but all the bills are paid and there's money left over to donate to the Red Cross for the suffering in Japan. There was sad news of the death of 86-year-old Aunt Eleanor, so frail for so long, but such gratefulness for all she means to and did for us. There was a soft bed to fall into at the end of the day and, I think, even a full moon. Today, with all that it holds, offers yet another chance at life. Lucky us.

close reading

2011-03-15T07:08:00.004-04:00

While retrieving my coat at the end of a party the other night, I got waylaid while looking at the host's bookshelves. You can tell a lot about people by the books they read. It occurred to me recently that you can tell a lot about yourself by the books you've loved. For instance, there's a reason that I read The Cricket in Times Square fifteen times when I was a little girl. I just haven't figured it out yet! But there they are, three sets of five marks on the inside cover of my old paperback book, signifying each time I finished it again. I couldn't get enough of the story about Chester, the amazing musical cricket, and Mario, the little boy who makes a home for him in his family's newsstand. I loved Harry Cat and Tucker Mouse, too, and the whole New York City zeitgeist. Serendipitously, I now know that it was named a Newbery Honor book the year I was born. There was a sixteenth reading, spring of Ian's fourth grade year, when we sat on Dr. Mac's steps and read it together while waiting for the school bus in the morning. I'm thinking now that I will go for seventeen, this time reading it very closely, line by line - and between the lines - to more fully understand the story of me.

praise be

2011-03-13T20:35:00.005-04:00

Some artists convey in their work a distinct sense that they are lovers of life. And they help us to be one, too. Consider these cakes painted by Wayne Thiebaud. There's simply no way someone could have a shriveled soul and give the world a treat like this. An inspiring article about him appears in the February issue of Smithsonian magazine which bears this out. And today I read a rare interview with Mary Oliver in Oprah magazine in which she refers to herself as a praise poet. "I acknowledge my feeling and gratitude for life by praising the world and whoever made all these things." No wonder her poems are like prayers. A painter and a writer. Guiding lights.