picnic {№11}

here is a rule i live by:  when it's the last day of december and seventy sunny degrees outside, you must have a picnic.

a new years eve picnic turns out to be an incredibly peaceful and sweet way to end the year.

so i paid homage to my parents' swinging nye parties (also in the seventies) by making classic cheese fondue.  it's super easy to pull together for an inpromtu little feast in the backyard.  a little cheese, a little wine, a dash of grated nutmeg is pretty much it.  for dipping:  sourdough bread, chicken sausage and apples. 

are these not the most beautiful olives you have ever seen?

and of course, some bubbles.  my favorite sparkling wines are sofia blanc de blancs in the wee pink can or a spanish cava.  my market was out of sofia so i went with the cava.  pink.  sipped through a straw.

ken joined me in choosing a word for 2012.  i made little cupcake toppers for the occassion.

him:  balance.  me:  abundance.

one of the issues with having a picnic in our backyard is managing our pack of beasts.  luca, the wire fox terrier, uses the table as his lookout on an everyday basis and kept trying to jump up during our meal.

we finally let him up at the end to take care of the tiny bit of leftover cheese in the pot.  (yes, i know this is why they are beasts.  because they are spoiled and get their way.)

simon is a chubby corgi with really short legs, so he can't jump on the table.  he was happy with a tiny bite of sausage.

roxy the cairn terrier pulled a greta garbo and remained aloof and out of camera range.

i wish you all a beautiful, colorful and abundant new year filled with love and beauty and grace and picnics.

if you would like to choose a word for 2012, susannah conway has a wonderful way to explore, click here.  i love hearing others' words, so please share. 

also, my absolute favorite new blogger, meg worden, has written an exquisite bit on nourishment.  please click here to read.  it's brilliant.  truly, i believe it has become my manifesto for a beautiful life.

picnic {№10}

picnic ten was also a (many-times-delayed-when-was-our-last-date?) date night.  we set out on the hottest day of the year to enjoy shakespeare under the stars at the foot of the blue ridge mountains.  endstation theatre gives an amazing festival each summer.  this night was twelfth night.

they encourage picnicking and much drinking of wine.

it began with soft green grass, a hint of breeze, talking and laughter floating from our blanket and the surrounding blankets, the sweet smokey scent from the tiki torches and a grand view of the blue ridge with the promise of a spectacular sunset.  picnic perfection, i'm telling you. 

and then this:

sudden loud claps of thunder and bolts of lightning followed by a downpour and the mad dash to the parking lot.

our very first picnic in the car was one of the best picnics ever.  the storm was long and the acting company was determined not to cancel the show.  so we waited.  and for the first time in a long time, the two of us had precious time to talk and laugh and share time together without distraction.  and there is just something incredibly romantic about the sound of rain pounding on the car roof, don't you think?  it was very intimate and both of us loved this quiet accidental moment of connection.

(recipe break) rainbow quinoa:  stir up cooked quinoa with purple cabbage, green onion, carrots, cilantro, pepitas, peaches, a splash of olive oil and a squeeze of lemon juice.  it's my new summer stand-by.  good and pretty.

we took a little walk in the storm after dinner, another intimate moment as we only had one umbrella and had to share.  the rain slowed to a drizzle and the theatre company came to back to life, hurrying to ready the stage for performance.

the show must go on.  and so it did.  shakespeare, misty hills and a pink sunset followed by a crisp and beautiful starry sky.

in case you haven't noticed

i enjoy a picnic.

and lately i'm weirdly obsessed with thermoses.

what would you like to bring?

{see picnic components on my polyvore.}

picnic {№9}

the first picnic of the season!  the beauty of this spring day inspired me to keep it simple and indulge in things i love.  hint:  there's rum in that thermos.

cupcakes and mojitos!

pretty little sugar butterflies (sugar robot).

the sunshine was spendiflorous.  the new baby green leaves on the trees cast a pale aqua tint to everything.

i am a happy girl with a mojito in hand...add some tiny cupcakes, sweet birdsong and a gentle breeze and the afternoon is perfect.

(i am so pleased to be picnic-ing again and enjoying the amazing outdoors.  if you'd like to see last year's picnics, click here.)

pique-nique {№8}

okay, how totally sad that i only made it halfway to my goal of sixteen picnics before the end of summer.  but eight is good, right?  will it make it better if it's in french?  everything's better in french.

lumiere d'automne d'or...

figues, raisins, brie et baguette...

et a la reverie de paris.

picnic {№7}

my weekend was spent in (voluntary) solitary confinement after the worst week ever. i had enough of people and their issues and how they freely fling them my way, as if my way with the catcher's mit makes me fair game for the force of their crap. (my apologies for using the word 'crap' in a picnic post; while honest, it's ugliness seems out of place.)  i intended a short little lunch al fresco, in the privacy and silence of my own backyard.  i needed rest and quiet and clearing.

i made a healthy little meal of dill tuna salad scooped into one of jessica's amazing heirlooms and ventured out early to beat the sun's scheduled plan to validate the heat advisory.  despite it being just after eleven, beads of sweat instantly appeared on my iced tea glass.  and yet i was oddly comforted by the warmth as if it was a rogue sunny day smack dab in the middle of february.

the backyard is loyal that way.

since returning home from california, i've been on a total health kick and have found it surprisingly easy to eat seasonal and organic produce.  i'm even toying with an ayurveda diet.  while my body feels light and clean, my spirit is heavy and gray.  today i realized that it is not only my physical health that is in need of a reboot.

i savoured my lunch then lazed about a bit in the hammock, one foot dangling off, staring up at the almost-white sky, pressing the cold glass to my face while being serenaded by lazy chirpy birds and the tinkling of the fountain.

then i cracked open 'lit'.  by page 37, i knew that while i could lose myself reading the brilliant prose depicting childhood emotional hell, i no longer want to muck around in the real-life versions making fruitless attempts at change in a system that is often as screwed up as the families it professes to serve.  i am weary and beat and bitter in this field where at every conference and in every newsletter, the only inspiration they have to offer the soldiers is that corny ubiquitous starfish story.  the soul investment has become too risky.   just like that, the decision was made.

picnic number seven, you are the picnic that changed my life.

picnic {№6}

not quite summer, but it feels like mid-august and cool grassy spots are prime real estate on a sunday afternoon.

a simple lunch of some of my favorites:  peaches and blackberries...

...a good book and a healthy dose of color...

...sparkly lemonade...

...and indian chicken salad in avocado wraps.

this year it seems a challenge to have time to enjoy a lazy picnic before the thunderstorms roll in.

but darkening skies and distant rumbling are the perfect backdrop to steinbeck.

picnic {№5}

was:

• perfect strawberries
• yellow flowers
• hot and humid
• turkey and brie with fig jam
• swinging at my own risk from the highest of swings

and today my favorite poem.

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did.

women and men (both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed (but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then) they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can being to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
with by spirit and if by yes

women and men (both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

e.e. cummings

picnic {№4}

as i was rushing out of the office on friday afternoon, eager to dissolve into the weekend, a coworker asked me about my plans.  "oh, really nothing, just relaxing...", i replied.  somehow over the next two days, the "nothing" part was buried in a flurry of activity.  at the end of the day on sunday, i discovered that my weekend was missing some sweet lazy time and it was too late for a proper picnic.  so i improvised.

i lit candles on the backyard patio, just as the sun was making her exit, leaving a sulty twilight in her wake.  ken ran to the corner for chinese takeout.  it was the inaugural event on the table i painted last weekend.

as we sat there enjoying our lo mein, i realized that this is why we put so much effort into having an outdoor space to escape to.  it was right there, easily accesssible, private, quiet, beautiful.

we caught up on each other's weeks and really talked about things that get pushed aside in the rush of everyday life.  like french macarons vs. coconut macaroons (i prefer the first, he the latter.).  and whether our dogs will feel abandoned at the kennel when we go on vacation.  and charles bukowski.  and heaven.

we sat togother in alternating moments of thought, talk, laughter, listening, silence.  we sat there until the first fireflies of the season made their presence known in the little forest behind the house.

i feel blessed and grateful.  i love these moments in life when i have no agenda but to work on my beautiful soul.

i wish you a million beautiful soul moments this week my friends.