pilgrim's breakfast

lemons on a grey background

2011-01-22T10:24:00.004-05:00

It is icy and cold cold cold outside... I have to admit I've been loving all the snow we've been getting here in the Mid-Atlantic. The two inches that three years ago would have us all running amok inside our houses, flabbergasted, rending garments and waving arms and then driving like petrified maniacs - these days, whatever. No big deal. Ten extra minutes in the morning and we're on our way. We've grown stronger in these past two winters, choosing footwear more wisely and layering like pros. It feels good. Cold, but good.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

sold

persimmons

2011-01-20T14:21:00.004-05:00

See? I can't let go. Even though this batch is really very crunchy - meaning they were likely harvested a long time ago, somewhere very far away. It's not how I usually do things, but for persimmons I will make this exception. After all, it's winter. And it's not like citrus is native to this region either. (Excuses, excuses). And even crunchy custard is delicious (in this case).

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

sold

persimmons

2011-01-19T10:49:00.003-05:00

It's still persimmon season somewhere, which is good for me because I'm not ready to let go quite yet. I bought another flat (only about fifteen this time); they're currently chilling in the unheated half-bath, waiting for me to don my coat and scarf when a craving for one of these spicy, custardy little jewels calls. It calls often.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

sold

three lemons

2011-01-18T09:40:00.003-05:00

Our little potted lemon tree appears to be taking the year off. I can understand; it worked very hard last year, giving us five (count 'em) perfect Meyer lemons. The little guy deserves a break. Still, though, I do want that wonderful citrusy brightness around, so I've taken to buying our lemons by-the-bag, lovely little organic lemons to keep in bowls. Their scent, paired with the pine-scented soy candles I've become addicted to (wake up, brush teeth, light soy candle), helps to make winter work for me. Throw in some gingerbread, and you have the right kind of "wintry mix".

acrylic on stretched canvas / 6" x 6"

available ~ 35

two fish

2011-01-05T09:57:00.004-05:00

I'd like to take a moment to celebrate bird feeders. We have two feeders that we try to keep full, and at any given moment there will be at least fifty birds in our tiny city backyard: plump pigeons perched on the awning frame, pretty little grey doves wandering around with their big beautiful eyes, and all sorts of finches and wrens, chickadees and cardinals bouncing all over the place. It's pretty great.

And all the while as I was painting these two raw fish, that were just sitting out on the dining room table being all fresh and fishy, Clementine was crouched by the glass back door. Tail swooping side to side. Every so often jumping into the ficus to attack the low-hanging branches. Once the painting was finished, away the fish went - without so much as a single sniff by a little pink nose, or a gentle bat of a furry white paw.

Here's to bird feeders! (And to a Happy New Year!)

acrylic on stretched canvas / 6" x 8"

sold

lemons in a bowl

2010-12-29T11:15:00.003-05:00

Oh! What a whirlwind time of year.... So many people to see, so many cookies to eat. (On a side note, why did they schedule cold and flu season during the holidays? Whose idea was that? Just wondering..). I hope yours has been and will continue to be - like ours - happy happy, merry and jolly ~ And that the new year brings health, even more happiness, and lots of wonderful citrus fruit.

acrylic on canvas / 6" x 6"

on hold

four persimmons

2010-12-17T09:31:00.003-05:00

The other day I gathered up a bunch of our reusable shopping bags and took a walk to one of our local markets. I needed some things: shrimp, garlic, housemade tofu, and a few persimmons. And by "a few persimmons", I mean thirty persimmons. The walk home was taxing on my right shoulder, but luckily I had a whole bag of treats to reward myself with when I finally got there.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

on hold

persimmons on a yellow background

2010-12-15T07:54:00.002-05:00

I probably shouldn't admit to this, but there are days when I don't really leave the house. Unless work or errands take me outside, I can pretty easily cosy up inside until - whoops! - it's night. Especially these days, when the temperature hovers around a frigid twenty-five degrees or so. I will, though, don my puffer coat and big, plush-lined duck boots in order to take a little field trip out to the backyard to gather firewood; just long enough to fill my lungs with cold air and make the tip of my nose tingle before I head back inside. To where the light is clear and the shadows are long - just like out back - but also where the fire is crackling in the little wood stove. And there's probably a pumpkin baking in the oven.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

on hold

apples and quince

2010-12-04T09:40:00.003-05:00

I have a horrible habit of looking down when I walk. I suppose I'm afraid of stepping on something, or off of something, or into something bad. I have to make a conscious effort to look up and around me rather than down at my feet. But this time of year it really isn't a problem. The other day, on my way to the post office, I found myself walking on a carpet of gorgeous green and yellow leaves. I couldn't stop looking at them (and then I almost ran into a bench).

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

available ~ 30

three apples

2010-12-02T09:05:00.003-05:00

A couple of weeks ago, when there were still leaves on the trees, the two oaks across the street from our house were a blazing, practically electric yellow. Majestic bordering on hysterical; absolutely amazing. And on sunny days (like we have today!), the clear blue Autumn sky would peek through the gaps and around the contours of translucent yellow. The leaves are mostly gone now, and we can see through the branches, over the fancy loft buildings, and to the skyline of Center City in the distance. But the blue-and-yellow of the sky and leaves is still with me... (obviously).

acrylic on stretched canvas / 6" x 6"

available ~ 35

three quince

2010-11-29T06:33:00.003-05:00

What a weekend! Lots of family, car time, and pumpkin pie - a real whirlwind, and a wonderful one, too. And it wrapped up yesterday with a long day at home (we managed to beat most of the traffic!) ~ splitting firewood, hanging bird houses and sipping tea while a huge pot of turkey stock bubbled away on the stove. It's a good time of year.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

available ~ 30

persimmons

2010-11-25T09:12:00.003-05:00

I am thankful for so many things: Love, family, wonderful friends... home, health, happiness. A good book by the fire, hiking in France, pine-scented soy candles, indoor formula cat food... There's so much! But right now I want to focus on persimmons. I am very thankful for persimmons. A fruit that tastes like custard or pie, in season at a time when custard or pie seems like both just-the-thing and way-too-much-right-now. And you can freeze persimmons, just pop them in the freezer, whole and unwrapped. When you take them out (and let them sit for fifteen minutes or so), they're essentially sorbet. Worth hoarding - and being thankful for.

Bon appetit!

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

sold

cheese with apples

2010-11-24T08:15:00.005-05:00

Allow me to introduce Pierre Robert. He is the dignified little wedge up front, flanked by golden apples. I met him the other day at the monthly cheese tasting at Quince. He seems so polite, doesn't he? And he is - that is, until you leave him out for a bit to warm to room temperature, and plate him up with a quince paste, a spiced pecan, maybe some dried cherries... that's when his true colors come out. His firm little shape will soften and ooze into a luscious, creamy goo; his "lingerie-like" mouthfeel (not my words, alas!) will render you speechless until you start blubbering and babbling like a fool. This is the cheese to invite over if you want all of your dinner guests to shut up for a moment, and then look at each other in dismay as they feel a new obsession forming, right this very minute. Oh, Pierre. You sneaky little cheese, you.

acrylic on stretched canvas / 6" x 6"

available ~ 35

quince with a terra cotta bowl

2010-11-23T08:19:00.004-05:00

It's always a bit hard for me to cook and eat quince. Not because there aren't tempting options (oh, there are tempting options!), but because they look and smell so magnificent just sitting in a bowl on the table - I can't bring myself to do anything that would mean not having them around anymore. But after going to a cheese tasting at the appropriately-named Quince on Saturday (presented by Madame Fromage and Marisa from Food in Jars), I just might be tempted to take a knife to that fuzzy, yellow-green fruit sooner than usual. Because we had this rosy quince jelly - spicy and fragrant and absolutely lovely paired with Idiazabal, one of my favorite Basque sheep's milk cheeses. And it was amazing.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

on hold

apples with a vase

2010-11-22T10:11:00.002-05:00

This is not a Gold-Rush-only household; we love our Cameos too. We had a Classic Autumn Sunday yesterday: Breakfast of homemade apple butter on toast; a trip to the farmers' market where we came thisclose to buying twenty-five pounds of brussels sprouts (it was a really good deal!) - but instead filled our bags and arms with apples and pumpkins; and a trip out to the farm where we gather our firewood every two weeks or so. We searched among downed trees and burn piles for pieces that we could chainsaw up into compact little logs small enough for our tiny (pink) wood stove. Then we had some curry for lunch, and came home and scattered ants and bark all over the house (oh, to have outdoor access to the backyard!), and made ourselves a pot of tea. Good Sunday. Now we can tackle this week.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

available ~ 30

apples and cheese

2010-11-19T09:04:00.005-05:00

That heavenly combination... So perfect for this time of year. I think that Autumn might be my favorite season to go to the Headhouse Farmers' Market (where I bought this lovely goat queso blanco, and the apples, of course). It's quiet at 10 am - when the market starts and when I arrive every Sunday; though there are still crowds tumbling over each other to get a peek of what's on offer, the light is low and the air chilly. There is ever-so-slighty less to choose from, making the choosing easier: the romanesco broccoli is obvious (or maybe a purple cauliflower?), the jewel-toned Swiss chard jumps into my shopping bag without even asking. The idea of soup lingers in the air as we peruse the leeks, carrots, and mounds of orange and pale-blue pumpkins. And as we break through the masses to walk back to the car along a carpet of fiery golden leaves that softens the cobblestone street, I wonder if maybe the uninsulated half-bath downstairs (sorry about that, guests) would make a good place to store all of these apples over the winter.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

sold

apples

2010-11-17T12:12:00.007-05:00

I feel like I've been talking about apples a lot lately - but until today I've been keeping them hidden. I haven't meant to. Here are three multi-hued Gold Rushes, which I can never resist when I see them at the market. So subtly luminous, so very-near-golden... And it certainly doesn't hurt that they're oh-so-crisp, sweet, and just this side of tart. The perfect snacking apple. I'm smitten.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

sold

cheese on a grey background

2010-11-16T13:22:00.004-05:00

It's a quiet, balmy November day. The light is dull and even; the soft rain is keeping people inside and off of the sidewalks, even though the air is still and warm. The cat pitter-patters across the wood floor, and every so often the rain echos the sound of her footsteps as it falls gently on the skylight. It's a good day for tea, for a bright apple with a creamy slice of cheese. Maybe a book, some soup, yoga, a nap... There are good things to grey fall days.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

available ~ 30

eggs in a pan

2010-11-15T08:32:00.003-05:00

I do typically crack the eggs before putting them in the pan. We've become completely hooked on farm-fresh eggs from happy free-roaming chickens, bought directly from the farmer (or maybe one of their friends). Once you've opened the carton to see their entirely un-uniform size and shape, the subtle variations in color, the tiny, pale freckles on some of the shells... And then inside, the rich golden color and wonderful flavor, the absolute essence of freshness... Well, there's no turning back.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

available ~ 30

parsnips

2010-11-14T09:32:00.004-05:00

(Ghost carrots....) I've always loved parsnips, though they often get overshadowed by things like beets, swiss chard, and Kabocha squashes when we're immersed in the craziness of the farmers' markets. But, after opening last month's issue of Food and Wine directly to a recipe for parsnip bacon, I was sure to keep them at the top of the list. And with all of these wonderful chestnuts I have laying around, I've been thinking lately of a parsnip-chestnut soup... Luckily I'm headed to the market right now. I might need more parsnips...

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

on hold

cheese on a glass plate

2010-11-13T10:18:00.004-05:00

Remember Prima Donna? That grande dame of Goudas who was seen everywhere two or so years ago? I do. I remember. And it being apple season - and us having bought some crisp and gorgeous Gold Rushes and Cameos at the Headhouse farmers' market last week - when I saw a healthy slice of good ol' Prima Donna for sale at some little grocery somewhere, I bought it. Because, dated though she may be, she is absolute perfection with a good apple.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

available ~ 30

chestnuts with a white dish

2010-11-11T11:56:00.004-05:00

It's hard to miss chestnut season in southwestern France. As much as ten or twelve times a day - sometimes more - we'd come across a stretch of path piled high with what appeared to be lethally spiky tennis balls, surprisingly menacing containers for such a smooth, luscious food. They're very kickable. Sometimes we'd spend a good twenty minutes passing a chestnut back and forth to each other as we walked, and judging from the lone chestnuts we'd often see on the side of the trail, we weren't the only ones. Other times we talked about gathering some for roasting, quickly giving up the idea when we remembered the noticeable lack of oven in every kitchen we managed to get our hands on. It wasn't until we met our wonderful Austrian friends that we found something to do with the chestnuts that didn't mean an improvised soccer match. They introduced us to Pasta all Ulrika, named after the friend who introduced them to this dish. B&K, thank you; Ulrika, whoever and wherever you are, thank you thank you thank you!

Pasta alla Ulrika:

Gather a bunch of chestnuts (here in the states, that means buying them, thanks to a horrible chestnut tree blight that wiped them all out some time ago. Good for bare feet, terrible for chestnut fanatics like me). Cut little x's into the shell of each nut and then drop them in boiling water for ten minutes or so - until the flesh of the nut is soft. Peel the chestnuts and mush up the meat with your fingertips - it's best to do this with a glass of wine and someone to talk to; it takes a while. Cook some pasta (we used farfalle), drain it while reserving a small bowl of the pasta water. Toss the pasta with the chestnut meat and a healthy scoop of creme fraiche, adjusting the amounts to your taste and adding a bit of salt and pepper. Stir in some of the reserved pasta water if it's dry (which it more than likely is). Serve with grated cheese (Emmental and Parmesan both worked for us), and maybe some prosciutto if it strikes your fancy. Oh man. It is good. Well worth the pain of gathering the spiny little things... or making the trip to the store.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

on hold

fresh cheese

2010-11-10T13:02:00.003-05:00

We knew that coming back from France would mean moving away from the diet we had grown so comfortably accustomed to. Delicious breads and cheeses wouldn't be quite as plentiful or dangerously affordable; a good thing now that we're no longer walking fifteen miles a day. But we're both still haunted by the memory of the cheeses of Bretagne, a region not known for cheese, having butter and seafood that steal the show. There was a walnut-infused semi-soft cow's milk cheese, alarming on its own but so good with apples. And there was a goat cheese, two days old, soft and so tangy and absolutely perfect.

Yesterday I came across this milky cylinder of ricotta, and for a moment, I was carried back to France. It doesn't have that goat's milk tang, but you know what? It doesn't matter. I'm happy.

Tomorrow! Reverie, 2nd and Girard, 6 o'clock. There will be cheese.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

sold

dish with olive leaves

2010-11-09T12:46:00.005-05:00

We had to bring the potted olive trees in before we went to France. They revolted, throwing leaves here and there and everywhere, unwilling to give up constant fresh air and sunshine for the next five months - not without a fight, at least. But when we got back, there were tiny, beautiful new shoots curling out from their trunks (thank you, green-thumbed neighbors!)... I suppose even olive trees can see the value of a sunny spot by the window in a warm, cozy house.

I am off right this minute to hang my third annual show at Reverie! The opening is on Thursday (Nov 11) at 6pm, at 2nd and Girard - come on by if you're in town! And if you're not, Philadelphia is lovely this time of year...

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

sold

tiny seashells

2010-10-24T13:16:00.001-04:00

Beaches around here are small, tucked between craggy cliffs and strewn with big mussel-encrusted rocks. But they're sandy, a beautiful coarse sand that forms tiny canyons for the water to flow between the tide pools and the ocean. And there are shells, thirty to a handful, jewel-toned and perfectly shaped.

gouache on paper / 3" x 3"
nfs

- posted from france with my iphone and blogpress app.

berries in husks

2010-10-24T13:15:00.001-04:00

I have no idea what these are called; I was too excited to have found them to ask. They're like zippy little tomato-berries with a husk like a tomatillo. We were given two after standing in a long line - and paying - at the farmer's market in Tregunc. I almost got back in line. But, as luck would have it, we managed to find a basket of them in a shop later that afternoon. Hopefully someday I'll manage to catch their name, but for now, having caught them at all will have to do.

gouache on paper / 3" x 3"
nfs

- posted from france with my iphone and blogpress app.

oyster knife

2010-10-23T01:57:00.001-04:00

We needed a knife. And though we found two oyster knives in our kitchen drawer, we wanted our own. So we went to the fishing store by the port and chose from about fifteen options - and we managed to choose the "pro" model (ahem). Three days later, we were back at the store, tails between our legs, the point of the knife having vanished inside a difficult oyster... After a good laugh was had by all, we left with a slightly shorter but pointy-again knife - and a new technique. I think this makes us pros now.

gouache on paper / 3" x 3"
nfs

- posted from france with my iphone and blogpress app.

the blue cheese plate

2010-10-23T01:47:00.001-04:00

... And then we were by the ocean. After wrapping up our 300-or-so mile walk in Gascony, we moved very quickly (!) by car to the northwestern coast of France, Bretagne. There we found a tiny stone house with a fig tree and a fireplace... long walks on blustery cliffs beside white houses with steep slate roofs... buttery cakes and more oysters than we could count (but not more than we could eat!). And there was a pretty blue cheese plate in our kitchen cabinet.

gouache on paper / 3" x 3"
nfs

- posted from france with my iphone and blogpress app.

tomato on a table

2010-10-09T12:06:00.001-04:00

Actually we got two very juicy heirloom tomatoes in Limogne, but only one managed to make it through to the end of dinner - and take center stage in front of another gloriously-papered wall.

gouache on paper / 3" x 3"
nfs

- posted from france with my iphone and blogpress app.

haricots on a table

2010-10-09T12:03:00.001-04:00

Quercy is a region known for pretty houses and delicious walnuts that often get turned into even more delicious cakes. Having shared a healthy slice of one of those cakes at about 4 pm in Limogne-en-Quercy, it was surprising that we managed to get our appetites back in time for dinner: fresh haricot beans (which we freed from their bright pink shells) with purslane we found along the trail, a very juicy heirloom tomato, a bit of sausage and a can of tuna. All of which we enjoyed in front of some rather spectacular wallpaper, courtesy of the communal gite.

gouache on paper / 3" x 3"
nfs

- posted from france with my iphone and blogpress app.

acorns

2010-10-09T11:51:00.001-04:00

It's Fall, and where there aren't chestnuts everywhere (which I will paint if I manage to keep them long enough before boiling them, crushing them, and tossing them with pasta and creme fraiche), there are acorns everywhere. The path has been rocky the past few days, so I have found myself looking at quite a lot of acorns. And finding them very beautiful.

gouache on paper / 3" x 3"
nfs

- posted from france with my iphone and blogpress app.

two crottins

2010-10-09T11:33:00.001-04:00

One of my favorite things to do in France is to stumble upon a market. It happened to us as we walked into Espalion, on the Lot river. All the telltale signs were there as we entered the town just before noon: lots of cars parked haphazardly and everywhere, women carrying straw baskets... And then we turned a corner and there it was, spread out before us in all its colorful, noisy, fragrant glory. Market Day! It's a bit tough to navigate a street market while still wearing our huge, cumbersome backpacks, but we managed. Some gorgeous French beans for dinner, lots of wonderful dried fruits for our morning snacks, and these two little goat cheeses.

After dinner that night in Estaing, we stayed at the table, Dan played guitar, and I painted what was left: the two crottins on an amber glass plate.

gouache on paper / 3" x 3"
nfs.

- posted from france with my iphone and blogpress app.

st chely d'aubrac

2010-10-05T11:57:00.001-04:00

St Chely d'Aubrac is tucked in a leafy green valley, below the clouds in which the high hills of Aubrac work their magic. It's a charming, sleepy town that tumbles gracefully down the hillside. (And no, I didn't exaggerate the angle between these two houses).

gouache on paper / 3" x 3"
nfs.

- posted from france with my iphone and blogpress app.

aubrac

2010-10-05T11:48:00.001-04:00

Aubrac.

gouache on paper / 3" x 3"

nfs.

- posted from france with my iphone and blogpress app.

cheese with grapes

2010-10-01T14:31:00.001-04:00

Aubrac - where we are now - is a sort of high plains region of France. Rolling hills of treeless, wind-whipped, barren, cold and golden terrain grazing the clouds... It is absolutely captivating. Cows are big deal here, outnumbering people by about two thousand to one. And they're pretty little things, the cows, with soft red coats and delicate faces framed by adorable spiky bangs, big liquidy doe eyes with coquettishly long lashes. It's hard to imagine them being so at home in such an austere landscape, but they are the portrait of tranquility, blinking and chewing, blinking and chewing, as they work hard on the first step in making some of the best cheese I've ever had.

This isn't a grape-growing region, so these luscious Muscats were imported from eighty or so miles away. We'll get there - just give us some time. We're on foot.

gouache on paper / 3" x 3"
nfs

- posted from france with my iphone and blogpress app.

blue opinel with tomatoes

2010-09-24T04:49:00.001-04:00

We like to get new pocket knives when we travel - they're essential to a good picnic. When in France, the ideal sturdy, thrifty knife is the Opinel, which we were thrilled to find comes with painted handles as well as the classic wood. Dan got this blue one; mine is orange, though I like to think of it as vermillion, or maybe pumpkin. The tomatoes we bought at a farmer's market in Le Puy; we ate most of them yesterday with lunch.

gouache on paper / 3" x 3"
nfs

- posted from france with my iphone and blogpress app.

rocher saint-michel

2010-09-22T10:39:00.001-04:00

A big rock with a little church on top. After sleeping for over eleven hours last night (!) - we had a long couple of days - we felt good and energized, so we went up to see it. Spectacular. And actually very small, though you wouldn't know it from the bottom (or even halfway up).

Le Puy-en-Velay
sketchbook excerpt

- posted from france with my iphone and blogpress app.

dish with tomatoes (the season of change)

2010-09-19T18:01:00.006-04:00

The mornings are cool and silvery, the afternoons golden-hued. I saw a sign on a farm stand yesterday that said, "last day to buy peaches"... It's time for a new season. Fall starts on Thursday, and Dan and I will be celebrating by walking around France for a month or so. We head out tomorrow. When we get back, the leaves will be turned and falling, the air crisp, all the tomatoes will have dropped from the vines out back. But! Until then - thanks to modern technology and also to Dan, who keeps up with it enough for both of us - though we'll be thousands of miles away, I'll also be staying right here. As long as wifi allows, I'll be posting sketches and paintings and stories and things. A change of seasons, a change of place, of medium and of subject matter (more duck, perhaps?)... I love this time of year.

A demain!

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

nfs.

pepper bouquet

2010-09-10T10:36:00.004-04:00

My husband turns one year more handsome and distinguished today. So this morning I decided to pick him a bouquet of these peppers, that just ripened almost all at once in our backyard, and that the other day, in a tandem coughing, sneezing, groping-for-water fit, we discovered are absolutely wonderful.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

nfs.

still life with eggplants

2010-09-08T07:40:00.002-04:00

It's a perfect September morning. Cool, quiet, a few clouds drifting across the sky, the backyard draped in an even, serene light. The cat is in her meatloaf position (no paws visible) in the middle of the patio, squinting and sniffing at the air as the wind rustles the leaves and neighborhood windchimes. Flocks of birds swoop overhead in wide, excited circles. It'll get hot later, we'll shed layers and seek out air conditioning and have grilled eggplant for dinner - it's still summer, after all. But fall is coming. It feels good.

acrylic on canvas / 24" x 24"

available ~ 95 ~ for sale on etsy

arrowhead peppers

2010-09-07T15:07:00.005-04:00

I'm not sure what these peppers are really called (I'll look into it), but they remind me of the stone arrowheads that my brother and I used to hunt for in our backyard. We weren't always successful. (In fact, I don't think we were ever successful...) Anyway, it was exciting to think that they might be there, and likewise, it is exciting to think that I might be able to stuff these little arrowhead-shaped peppers with feta and grill them until they are all blistery and melty and absolutely delicious.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

on hold

frying peppers

2010-09-06T10:08:00.002-04:00

I love the jaunty peppers of late summer. It seems as if one should be able to read fortunes by tossing a few frying peppers onto a tabletop. It really does feel like these peppers are speaking to me...

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

sold

still life with tomatoes

2010-09-05T08:46:00.004-04:00

Oh, wonderful long, lazy Labor Day weekend... Yesterday Dan painted the little room we just finished; I did laundry and rearranged the potted plants, whose leaves shivered with happiness in the cool breeze and sunshine. Later on we built a fire outside and made tiny hamburgers with friends. And all the while, the weather insisted on being as mind-bogglingly gorgeous as possible. Today promises to be similar. So does Monday. Oh, happy September, glorious long weekend... So nice, so nice.

acrylic on canvas / 8" x 10"

sold

purple garlic

2010-09-04T09:27:00.005-04:00

After a month of being away almost all the time (as you may have noticed), I have finally gotten a chance to reconnect with the markets and some of my farmer friends - among the more notable is our "Meat Guy", Mark from Natural Meadows Farm. We buy most of the meat that we eat from him; it's the kind of happy, grass-fed lusciousness that makes our more carnivorous foodie friends flip their wigs when we make something as simple as, say, a burger. Although I wasn't in the market for meat yesterday, I am always wanting more of his free-roamin' chickens' gorgeous multicolored eggs (scored!), and when he has a basket of perfect tiny heads of purple-hued garlic, into my own basket they go.... I'm a total sucker for pretty garlic. (Yes, that was a vampire joke).

acrylic on stretched canvas

on hold

plums

2010-09-03T08:21:00.004-04:00

There was some talk of naming this painting "mammoth plums" - and I'll grant that they're huge, the size of a larger-than-average apple. Approaching grapefruit. But I'm more interested in their deep, rich, heat-saturated, soak-up-the-sun, wow-it's-been-hot, dark dark dark purple. So dark they read as pure black in most light. If you leave them in the sun you'll burn your fingertips when you reach for a snack. But then you turn one over and find a translucent ruby red glowing through.... Like this heat-wave-packed summer has been, these plums are intense.

Oh - Happy (belated) September!

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

sold

homegrown peppers

2010-08-25T10:44:00.002-04:00

2010-07-13T06:50:00.004-04:00

I alluded to it yesterday and I think it's time I made a confession. I'm not one of those stoic people who never sheds a tear. Not by a long shot, actually. I welled up the other day when Spain won the World Cup (I would have done the same had the Netherlands won). Yesterday's continuous NPR coverage of the fiftieth birthday of To Kill a Mockingbird had me sniffling with emotion every ten minutes. But only once - and this does strike me as rather odd - has a painting brought me to tears. I tend to respond more along the lines of losing my breath and getting dizzy at things like Diebenkorns, Morandis, and that incredible Rogier van der Weyden at the Philadelphia Museum of Art (if you've been there you probably know what I'm talking about). But a year or so ago I was at the Phillips in Washington with my father, to see the ethereal Morandi show (it was a good day). We were walking up the spiral staircase and I glanced over into the gallery - and heard myself let out a loud, involuntary sob. All the way across two rooms was Matisse's The Egyptian Curtain. As far as I know, the painting came running across the floor and either bonked me over the head or gave me history's warmest, most love-filled embrace - that's pretty much how it felt. I could barely reach the top of the stairs for the tears that filled my eyes. It was a really good day.

Are you ready? Here's another one: that large, very round and orange fruit in the lower right part of the dish in today's painting? It's an eggplant.

acrylic on stretched canvas / 18" x 18"

sold

still life with figs

2010-07-12T10:50:00.005-04:00

All this intense heat has me dreaming of the Riviera, of figs and Egyptian curtains and things...

Our beloved fig tree is a real diva, demanding a warm winter coat and sleeping bag before the first frosts set in, and ravenously drinking up sunshine (which, thankfully, there has been no lack of lately). It likes to have its branches trimmed and its leaves tended to. We talk to it every so often to keep its spirits up when the weather is less-than-Mediterranean. But when the first fruits start practically dripping off of the branches, all of that coddling becomes worthwhile. So, so worthwhile.

acrylic on canvas board / 5" x 7"

on hold

still life with purple coneflowers

2010-07-09T11:40:00.007-04:00

There are all sorts of wonderful colors hiding in the sun-drenched green froth of the backyard. Bright geraniums, black-eyed Susans, the yellow buds of the curry plants... Ripening cherry tomatoes and baby eggplants... And these bright purple Echinacea flowers, boldly standing up to the sun and unrelenting heat. Health reigns supreme.

acrylic on stretched canvas / 6" x 8"

on hold

still life with green tomatoes

2010-07-08T07:16:00.004-04:00

Home at last, to a garden full of ripening summer veggies. Before I spent a sweaty couple of days huffing and puffing through stuffy Manhattan, we went camping over the weekend in the mountains, in the glorious clean mountain air. We set up our tents under a bright green canopy, with almost no other nylon in sight between the slender tree trunks. We went hiking past waterfalls and dove off of platforms into a little mountain lake. We grilled sausages and veggies, watched an impressive amateur fireworks display, and then dozed by a bonfire to the sweet sound of a somewhat slurred singalong. And tucked in amongst all that, we ate the season's first two shiny red tomatoes, courtesy of the Early Girl plant in a green pot on our patio. Ah, summer....

acrylic on stretched canvas / 5" x 7"

sold

apricots

2010-07-02T06:43:00.005-04:00

It is deliciously cool and beautiful out right now - it has been all week. An striking difference from last week, when walking felt like swimming slowly through a very warm, still pool. July is shaping up nicely on this second day.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

sold

apricots with a white dish

2010-07-01T07:03:00.005-04:00

(clementine flashbacks) ~ Happy July!

It's stone fruit season! These teeny tiny apricots appeared at the market at the Piazza on Saturday. Although we were trying to hold back (ha! If only), we couldn't resist buying a pint. The littlest ones are the size of cherries. They're five-to-a-serving apricots. And they taste like sunshine.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

on hold

still life with radishes

2010-06-28T07:02:00.005-04:00

It has been just incredibly hot and humid these past few days (I really do wish I had a pool!). I can feel it as I step outside first thing in the morning, as the sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon. The air is still and thick and warm, with an occasional precious breeze not so much introducing a cool moment as just pushing the warm air around. The cat tends to slink around the house in short spurts, taking a few steps before loudly sighing and slumping to the ground. On Saturday I stretched out to rest on the cool kitchen floor. Twice.

acrylic on stretched canvas / 6" x 8"

sold

still life with dish of green beans

2010-06-26T08:30:00.004-04:00

It's summer... my inner fauvist is emerging.

We have a lot of little things planned for the weekend: World Cup match watching, trips to the farmers' markets, finally getting rid of the rolled-up rug that I've been tripping over every time I walk through the dining room. Finding just the right recipe for putting to good use all the zucchini that we've been amassing every time we see Dan's dad and his incredibly green thumb. Exercising our fly-swatting muscles, making our way to a swimming pool... Good lazy summer weekend things.

acrylic on stretched canvas / 8" x 10"

sold

still life with rose hips

2010-06-25T06:25:00.005-04:00

Entirely unrelated to this painting (or maybe it was the lemon that made me think of this): it has been a remarkable season for fireflies. The very moment that the last of the bright pink sunlight slips over the tops of the houses and the sky turns that warm blue-grey of early evening, out they come. Twenty, maybe thirty of them at a time in our little backyard, landing on shoulders and knees, floating around turning off and on and off and on.

The other night Dan and I went for a walk after dinner. We eat early, and it was still light out (it was also the longest day of the year). I have a terrible tendency to look at my feet while I walk, which is exactly what I was doing when Dan said, "It's funny how the fireflies are hovering in the shade - they must be anxious to get this night started." I looked up and there they were, hundreds of them, floating in little circles in the shadows of the trees that lined the river. Like glow-in-the-dark buttercups dancing over the surface of the grass. Magical.

acrylic on stretched canvas / 8" x 10"

sold

rose hips

2010-06-24T07:45:00.004-04:00

When Dan and I were on our honeymoon in Argentina, we found ourselves hooked on all sorts of new and wonderful breakfast spreads: dulce de leche (of course), calafate jam (made with a berry native to a small region of Patagonia), and another jam called "dulce de mosqueta". It was smooth, sweet and tangy, a deep orange-red color; the label showed a sort of spider-shaped fruit unlike anything we had ever seen before. It was only when we found wild rose bushes while on a hike near the glaciers that we figured it out - they were studded with mosqueta - of course! Rose hips! Mystery solved.

We have three rugosa bushes out back, which produce unbelievably fragrant white blossoms that quickly fall away to reveal these round, rosy hips. So far we only get a few at a time, but maybe I'll start saving them and make my own dulce. We'll see....

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

on hold

brown eggs

2010-06-23T07:30:00.006-04:00

I spent much of yesterday baking. It was not easy to make the decision to turn the oven on in the morning when it was already in the upper 80s outside (and inside, as it were).... Not unlike making the decision to go berry picking on Monday when we knew it would mean a day full of dust and brambles and unrelenting sun. But the way I see it is this: I can either lay around on top of the air conditioning and mope and wish I had a pool.... Or I can bake a cake to go with yesterday's berries.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

sold

bunch of radishes

2010-06-21T11:23:00.005-04:00

Still on the radishes... There are a couple of reasons for this. One is that I'm fitting in all I can, since the mercury has hit (and passed) 90 degrees and pretty much guaranteed that these are, in fact, the last of the season (and I only just started!). The other is that we didn't get to the market at Headhouse yesterday, sadly. Happily, it is because we were too busy shucking oysters and taking long kayak rides through the incredibly serene marshy channels of the bay. And lounging on the beach. And grilling scallops and drinking Torrontes. Hitting the market, as an itinerary, came in at a very close second.

Happy happy happy Summer!

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

sold

radishes with shadows

2010-06-19T09:08:00.006-04:00

This is my first outdoor painting of the year! Every morning the sun rises over the church on Gaul Street - about a block away - peeking coquettishly through the spires of the bell tower before greeting us with a full-on, smack-in-the-face burst of unfiltered morning sunlight - and casting long, dark, dusty-Spanish-town-style shadows across the table. It's a really incredible way to say good morning to the day... I usually wear my big floppy sunhat while I eat breakfast.

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

on hold

2010-03-01T05:56:00.007-05:00

2010-02-22T16:11:00.005-05:00

I think this year will go down in history as the year I started my Love Affair With Winter. Yes, I still find myself from time to time researching real estate in more temperate climes, and I have thrown a tantrum or two when faced with an impenetrably gloomy day.... But oh so many wonderfully wintry things have happened as well: Hikes on brisk blue days, including snowshoeing (!!!) in the mystical High Peaks region near Lake Placid, NY. Hitting the slopes for the first time in the decade on the last day of the decade on supercool Elk Mountain (Pennsylvania's best kept secret, sssh). Mastering the art of the perfect vegetable soup, and the other art of the well-composed simple supper. Eating five citrus fruits a day, and then throwing their dried peels into the crackling fire in our charming new wood stove. Yes, our neighborhood may be newly populated with mini-Matterhorns of asphalt-colored snow, but that stuff was gorgeous when it was falling out of the sky, wasn't it? I think so.

If I could get to my rooftop, I'd yell it from there: I love winter!

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

sold

bergamot oranges

2010-02-20T10:19:00.005-05:00

I know what you're thinking. "Poor girl. She's gone off her rocker completely. All of the bright citrus fruits she's been looking at lately have blinded her eyes and muddled her brain - poor thing thinks that those lemons are oranges." But I assure you: I'm okay. And these are oranges - bergamot oranges, the lovely zing in your cup of Earl Grey. Tangy and exotic, these oranges are... yellow. Who knew?

acrylic on canvas board / 6" x 6"

sold