I had planned to tell you today all about last weekend's Mother's Day Tea - the farm, the menu, the recipes - but it just doesn't seem right. (Next week, kay?) It is Friday. And for me Fridays are usually wind down days, days to feel out what I've done (or not done) during the week, and cool the coals so we can all give it a rest for the weekend.
I mentioned in the honey post sneaking licks from the jar in the margins of my days. This week, even though the catering is over and life is shushing its way back to quiet again, I have had no margins. Or, I have made no margins.
So, as a part of the turn, I am starting up a series of posts called Margins. There will be a picture and there will be words, but instead of spurring you on to bake or cook or read something, a Margins day will, I hope, make you want to sit back in your chair, take a deep breath, and look out the window - sometimes with a cookie in hand.
The post will have to do with what is called, in poetic terms, the white space of life, the stuff that generates the energy for cakes grand and cakes humble, for hours spent smoothing batter into wee thin circles and pulsing petals into rose sugar. It gives pause, and clarity, and is one simple way for me to practice what I believe.
I have some silly big plans for this summer (just around the corner!), weeks of ice cream and pie and cakes, two big birthdays (he turns 5! she turns 1!), learning how to feed my family, and maybe even some organizational overhaul. I know. We are gearing up. Setting out. But it is essential to have the quiet before the storm. And quiet in the midst. And thus, margins.