Not sure why packing triggers the desire to whip up some complicated recipes, but there have been moves where I'm making mayonnaise or souffles~probably some justification that I need to use up eggs. But stacks of cardboard always finds me in the kitchen avoiding actual packing. How fortunate that my Joy of Cooking students demanded that we have one final gathering before summer begins. We'll be torching these brulees tomorrow night~why not see if we can get the fire alarms to go off for THREE weekends in a row?!
This poem has been sitting in my inbox for a few weeks~the middle bit echoes what this blog is about~to have me pay attention to the little moments of my days.
No Ansel Adams
but the snapshots we captured
through the open car window
on our eight megapixel cell phones
on the side of the road off an exit ramp
as truck taillights streaked eastbound
opposite the earth’s rotation
in startling calm that evening
a mere dot-glow above dun fields
Look, life is like this, filled
with moments of meaning
paid attention to or not
but we tried we lingered
and sure enough it is here
looming in memory-mind
the fat orange ball above horizon
inching up into blank navy air
the full moon in early spring
we drove toward in silence
"Moonrise, Aurora, Nebraska" by Twyla M. Hansen from Rock. Tree. Bird. © The Backwaters Press, 2017.
Bossy little boxes exerting a little bit of pressure on this move.