Thursday, November 11, 2010

Taste the Day


It's one of those autumn weeks when the sun is so bright it bleaches the brown fields to honey gold and the wind makes me wish I had a kite to fly everywhere I go.  Inside, daylight flirts with floorboards until the moon's curfew, and roses mellow until my eyes taste sugared melon at a glance.  Weeks like this, we alternate between morning walks along the bay in search of cooper's hawks and evenings holed up with old books.  In between there's work, but that's not what we'll remember when we look back on these days.  No.  Our minds will recall strong tea, warm bread, the favorite threadbare quilt.  Remember, you'll say, how we laughed at those women in line at the mall buying all those scented candles?  Dozens and dozens of them, every one like Christmas shoved into a jar: cranberry, sugar cookie, apple spice.  "Just bake a friggin' pie!" you said,  and then we went home and baked one in their honor, with blueberries and raspberries and ice cream on the side.

I dreamed of this once, that life could be this.  I didn't know then that each day is the past in the making.   Once I finally realized, I tossed all recipes aside and started each day from scratch, measuring minutes and ounces and cups and pounds and kisses and good mornings and goodbyes with my hands and my heart.  Suddenly, no day was ever too bitter that I didn't want a taste, and most days I was scraping the bowl or finishing the crumbs off the plate with my fingertips.  And you were always willing to share.  

And there's us now, tonight, two forks, eating cake straight from the serving plate.  And this is what I'll remember: just how sweet life can taste.           

    

23 comments:

  1. As happy as this post is, it makes me weepy for those who don't have this in their lives! Aren't we the lucky ones? Yes!!
    And I'll say that if only one of those women reads this they'll head to the market for fresh berries for a pie tomorrow. Life IS sweet. The older I get the more appreciative of life's sweetness I become. I want to savour the moments of life like this, to remember them, to have them nourish me so that when I'm old and infirm I will have them to cushion me and my old bones.
    xoxoxo Love you! your words are my balm!!!!! sigh.

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  2. Oh Gigi,
    Thank you for this.
    With love,
    Marjorie

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  3. I know a few women who buy candles smelling like Christmas. I've wondered why, when it is so much more pleasurable to create those smells through baking. They are super skinny, though. Perhaps the reason is they don't bake.
    Beautiful thoughts, Gigi. I love the way you express yourself. Particularly this line -...each day is the past in the making. So true. So true.

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  4. you know how it is, you follow links from other people's links...you 'graze' through blogs...enjoying bits of some but not stopping for long. but i read your words in this post, not once but twice...and i thought, wow. i loved the words. thank you :)

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  5. This is really lovely writing, and you have wonderfully captured this moment in the year. Lately I've been having the sense of living the life I once dreamed about too, and I'm glad to read that I'm not alone in that, because it's such a good feeling. Cheers to that!

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  6. This is the best. The truth. Bake your pies, eat a handful of blueberries, cut your own Christmas tree and smell like the woods (although I admit to a fir candle here and there, my lust for a fir tree not easily fulfilled in these east texas woods). the day is yours, or mine, and it is always a poem, a recipe. always. the ingredients vary, the stanzas change, but always. love this.

    xoxo
    Debi

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  7. I read you faithfully, but from a distance, don't comment often.

    this piece is incredibly written, evocative, soothing, poetry really...

    I am in love with this piece Gigi!

    Thank you for starting my day here on the west coast out so wonderfully, and I am going to print this post out to read and re-read later today, in between all of my mommy duties, etc.

    I am inspired.

    Smiles

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  8. GiGi, you are such a wonderful writter. I loved this.

    yvonne

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  9. you truly have one of the best blogs i have ever seen..
    sincerely, pam

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  10. found you through a friend on facebook, this was amazing, beautifully written, beautifully felt.

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  11. It's the little things, isn't it Gigi?
    ....although, those litle things are the major things that make our lives what they are. XXXX

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  12. Dear Gigi....I really can't express how much I love this post...it truely is a poem.

    I will always try to start the day thinking of your quote "...each day is the past in the making."

    xo

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  13. memories and sharing and beauty and soul.
    perfect Gigi.
    (and I just adore that header)

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  14. oh....
    these tender words
    make me feel as if I'm resting back
    under a starry sky,
    just gazing,
    as each shiny twinkle
    massages fresh breath
    into my soul
    and I savor each
    light as it shines.
    Beautiful words from a lovely soul.
    Thanks for this,
    Jennifer

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  15. such beautiful shots and thoughts

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  16. Beautiful, Gigi..!! It's the simple moments that are the most sacred! Happy Sunday, my friend! xxoo :)

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  17. i don't know what to say...this was PERFECTLY WONDERFUL....oh..your words....

    what a talent you have, my friend

    sending love,
    kary
    xxx

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  18. Oh, Gigi--this brought me to tears. Your words paint such a picture, create such a longing, present so much grace and satisfaction. Thank you so much for sharing.

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  19. I love this - the way you wrote it and the photos. Beautiful thoughts.

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  20. You are a poet, even in your prose. I just love to come here and soak up your turn of phrase and rich descriptions. More than that, I love the woman behind the skill.

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  21. This must be one of the most beautifully written posts I've ever read. The images are beautiful as well, but the words really touched a chord in me. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

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  22. Gigi...just when I think I have found a favourite post of yours, you delight and wrap me up with wonder once again. I think this happens every single time I visit you. Your writing is absolutely exquisite. Absolutely.

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