A peach of a day

Saturday was a 'peach' of a day.

Danny (as in Tropical Storm Danny) pelted the Maine coast with hard heavy unending rain and winds that began Friday night and didn't end until the wee hours Sunday morning. But never mind. Larry brought me flowers. And I had thoughts of slow cooking.

There was a chill in the air. My thoughts turned to indoor cooking. Slow cooking. Something that simmers for a long long while called to me. I like slow food. But you already know that about me. I liked slow food before it was a movement. Before it was trendy.

Tomatoes, ahhhhh tomatoes. Slowly simmered fresh tomatoes.

For today's recipe, I needed six large tomatoes and a generous amount of fresh herbs.

I cut the tomatoes in fat slices and gave them a little shower of good olive oil. Mixed them with freshly cut herbs from our container garden ~~ basil, both green and purple, oregano, thyme, parsley. Added a healthy dose of minced garlic and sprinkling of salt and pepper and sugar.

The whole luscious thing went into a large covered roasting pan in a 250 degree oven for six hours. Slow cooking. Yes.

It wasn't long before the aroma of tomato, garlic and herbs filled the house.

Here is the lovely concoction after 2 hours in the oven.

And at 4 hours into the process, it was nearly impossible to resist a taste. I didn't. Resist.

Six hours later. A slowly roasted tomato sauce just out of the oven.

This is a hearty sauce, intensely flavored. It will be tossed with a good pasta and some freshly grated cheese. Asiago or Parmesan. For for dinner, we added a salad of red and green leaf lettuce and frissee dressed with balsamic vinegar and olive oil. Red wine in glasses. A little bit of heaven.

A companionable silence

I am so into ..... slow...... today was slow.

Deliberately intentionally slow.

I took my stitching basket out to the deck this afternoon

surrounded by pansies and petunias

cilantro, shisu, parsley, oregano, & thyme,

purple and green basil

dill and tomato

heliatrope

dahlia

&

even

mint

Sheltered

under the umbrella,

finches twitter and chirp

at the feeder

the occasional wild turkey or two

or three or more wander by

Our house is nestled in the woods

down a private road

unseen by tourists

Its quiet.

I am quiet

and still

Enough

for a hummingbird

to drink while I just sit

and stitch.

We are companionable, we too.

The weather has improved immeasurably along the coast.

We have had sun for four days now

Temps in the mid-to high-80's

A bit humid; it rains nearly every night.

But never mind.

We have the sun

time to sit

in peace

stitching

Practicing Slow

I like the concept of slow.

I like things that slow the pace of life. Food cooked slowly. Bread rising and soup simmering, teasing and tempting the senses for things to come.

I like things made by hand. Things made slowly and with love: knitted mittens; a scarf, a hat, a sweater. Something that didn't come from Target but came from love. Slow love.

I like having stitching in my basket. Fabrics that were hand-dyed from plants grown in my garden. Projects waiting for that exactly right moment when I will take up my needle .......

At this time in my life, I want to savor moments, not let them rush by me. I want to sit with experiences. Does this put me out-of-step in the too-fast hurry-up world of multi-tasking, image-distraction, and information overloading? Perhaps.

Everywhere I go, I see people sharing the same table in a restaurant, but one is talking to someone else ~~~~on the cell phone. Did I tell you about the man I saw wading in the waves on Long Sands Beach, his cell phone attached to one ear, talking talking talking. What could have been more important than that moment of sea and sand and sky and sun?

Perhaps I am out-of-step, but it's just fine with me.

I like what emerges when we let go of fast ~~~~ quick ~~~~ immediate gratification. But you know, just when I think I'm on to something new, I discover that others have got there first. For example, in 2004 the Australian critic Robert Hughes, said:

We have had a gutful of fast art and fast food. What we need more of is slow art: art that holds time as a vase holds water: art that grows out of modes of perception and whose skill and doggedness make you think and feel; art that isn't merely sensational, that doesn't get its message across in 10 seconds, that isn't falsely iconic, that hooks onto something deep-running in our natures. In a word, art that is the very opposite of mass media.

I believe slow can be healing. Taking the time to follow rain droplets on the window pane. Taking time to just sit ~~ doing nothing. Letting ideas germinate and come to flower. Taking time to breathe. Taking time to be who you really are.

The artist Sabrina Ward Harrison said of her work (find it here at http://www.sabrinawardharrison.com/ee/index.php/sabstudio/tlp/):

"As we have barreled deeper and deeper into a technological /
result driven 21st century now more than ever I do believe we need to be bought home to the presence of our living. to allow the restful validation of your own tender true humanity, may this work be a living ode to our living. I am striving to create both a visual and emotional unfolding through the textural interchange of photography, sound, collage, film and found objects. As you observe, as you listen may you rest into that place where this moment, and your deepest longing exist."

Practice slow. Give yourself a gift of timelessness. Click on Sabrina's website. And just listen. Just watch. Just breathe.