Would you like to know how the French created the baguette? Because I can tell you. It happened one day two hundred years ago when a peasant woman was all in a kerfluffle because she had just seen a fox slip into the henhouse, and the cows had to be milked, and the children were running around half-naked and were beating each other with dried bunches of lavender (they’re in Provence, okay? Just roll with me on this one). And she had to bake bread because people have to eat. So you know what she did?
Pristine. It’s pristine out here. The air is clear – it’s startling. No cloying humidity or that sticky, heavy air. I can’t wait for summer here, all real sunshine and no haze.
My parents and I remarked how home-like this place is. It seems like we’ve been here far longer than two weeks. And do you know what it reminds me of? It reminds me of my favorite places – West Virginia, then northern Virginia. I may have always been a mountain girl at heart; my best, fondest memories were made on mountains.
You know, it wasn’t my idea to move to Boone, North Carolina.
So I’ve had some posts filled with pictures, just waiting waiting waiting for the words. I like the photography process; love the creation of loveliness, but somehow the words are a little harder for me – especially if they’re not . . . I don’t know . . . relevant to my life. Most of the time, I feel like I need a story; some kind of narrative to connect these recipes with something I’ve dealt with or am thinking about. I don’t like how my writing sounds when it’s just a voice without a heart.
And this is where my heart has been recently: why work so hard to make a picture just so lovely when the world is falling to bits? Is it pretentious and unnecessary?
Why bother, for example, placing cranberries just so when a husband got burned alive last week in a cage? Why bother getting so frustrated over my camera exposure when children around the world are not loved or even wanted? Why talk to the world about tarts or babka when nations are descending into chaos? When Syrians and Ukranians are being forced out of their home by war, when children are being sold for profit to quell salacious desire, when women chose to sell their bodies so their children can eat? Why dabble with the frivolous?