Tuesday, October 17, 2017
Monday, October 16, 2017
Sunday, October 15, 2017
is pure comfort food. Winter squash for sure. Rooted and sturdy with insides that surprise & beguile made sweet by roasting. Which is what certain words dish up, too, as poems. I'm thinking editing a poem tries to get to the inherent savory and/or sweetness. A kind of roasting, I'd say.
|Top left: Blue Ballet Squash -- new to me. Yummy!|
Friday, October 13, 2017
and yet the seasonal has a way of addressing absence & its ensuing lament. Pomegranates. The word itself is a poem. Even without the thrill of its 613 seeds, the pomegranate is a joy to behold. Fecund and juicy. Fall is spilling. These beauties picked by Bev from her brother's tree. Wow!