Scotch and Poetry
Celebrating Samwell this weekend and honouring his birth. Giving thanks for this man who walked onto mine and keeps holding my hand. What a startling, ordinary thing love is.
Began yesterday with a house full of scotch and poetry, friends from far around and various deliciousness. Grateful for the young and old, for children clambering up and down to feed the horse who lives in our bedroom, for Galway Kinnell, Leonard Cohen, Maya Angelou (remembered, long forgotten) and, of course, Rilke, first in German and then in memory. For my friends, the poets. Sipped oceanic liqueur, port barrel-aged amber, chai. Ate homemade chocolates and medjool dates full of spiced butter. Pork roast, candied crab apples. And remembrances of my beloved everywhere, baby pix, birth stories (thanks to mom and pop), candle light and an eagle feather. It was a celebration to warm the soul for another year.
Today, long walks, cheesecake, sup with the folks and sunshine, I predict. Envisioning simplicity, juicy kisses and clean dishes.
Began yesterday with a house full of scotch and poetry, friends from far around and various deliciousness. Grateful for the young and old, for children clambering up and down to feed the horse who lives in our bedroom, for Galway Kinnell, Leonard Cohen, Maya Angelou (remembered, long forgotten) and, of course, Rilke, first in German and then in memory. For my friends, the poets. Sipped oceanic liqueur, port barrel-aged amber, chai. Ate homemade chocolates and medjool dates full of spiced butter. Pork roast, candied crab apples. And remembrances of my beloved everywhere, baby pix, birth stories (thanks to mom and pop), candle light and an eagle feather. It was a celebration to warm the soul for another year.
Today, long walks, cheesecake, sup with the folks and sunshine, I predict. Envisioning simplicity, juicy kisses and clean dishes.
My love,
K
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