Bits

[My true love, roasted cauliflower, November 2008.]

The air smells delicious up north especially when it rains, as it did on Saturday; on the drive back to West County I rolled down the window for a minute to let in all the good smells in of water and damp roads and grass and earth. Today the sun swings in and out of the clouds and at the end of the day a whole roasted cauliflower waits for me — that, truly, is something to look forward to.

I’m heading eastwards at the end of the week again, to celebrate with my friends at their wedding. I just looked at the forecast and remembered that it’s true fall now, which means I must bring my winter coat and pack sweaters and thick socks. This past weekend was so cozy and full of rain and then some sun — though cool — to finish it off that I felt like curling up with a book and a cup of tea and settling in for the long winter. I’m glad my mind is finally somewhat catching up to the calendar even if it’s taken awhile.

Though today I do have an inexplicable wish to slip away to the Sierras and sit on the cool rocks for a time. I want the icy blue of Tenaya Lake lapping against my toes. I want to listen to the wind pour through the pine trees at the edge of the fireline and sit cross-legged and quiet, letting my pulse slow and body calm and not thinking anything at all.

This Monday morning I am full of wants and wishes — but sometimes it is OK, I think, to dream a bit. For example: tonight oh, tonight, I would like to feel those mountains against my back. I want them so fiercely. I want to cook soup over the campfire and smell the July redwood bark in the high sun. I want a huge, bare kitchen and the smell of dry grass spreading out in the shade and an orange cat returned home to me to curl up on my bed and purr himself into sleep. I want to hold your hand and discover what it means. I want to pull weeds out of the ground in Iceland and pat the velvety noses of the little horses while feeding them. I want to go to Santa Fe and smell the pinon fire-smoke drifting up into the cold sky. I want asparagus season to last longer. I want always to feel this lucky for this life.

Here in the city it is cool and grey and I got up very early to make the long drive back from Sonoma County through the pale morning light. I am feeling a bit sleepy, a bit quiet, a bit like I really can’t wait to go home later, turn on the oven, and roast some vegetables.

My life always seems to come down to food. But then, isn’t that really what it’s all about?