Sunday, February 12, 2017

Portrait Of Luther Burbank by Frida Kahlo

My thanks to the russet potato I was dicing this morning to make home fries for bringing me to this painting. I have posted the painting before, and I had done some research on Luther Burbank after seeing this Frida Kahlo painting for the first time, but today's search was for entirely different reasons which all started with that russet potato.
I am making a concerted effort to live in the moment. I spend too much time ruminating about the past and worrying about the future. As I diced that potato, I was thinking about what it smelled like and how to describe the smell and the taste of a russet potato. The only smell word that came to mind was earthy. I found it hard to describe the taste. Of course, starchy came to mind, but what is starchy and how do you describe starchy? The taste of a russet potato is mild and somewhat bland. As the potato cooks, it tends to absorb the tastes of what it's cooked in--in this case, it was cooked with diced onions with some kosher salt, cracked black pepper, onion powder, and garlic powder and cooked in some olive oil.
The little experiment in mindfulness helped. My mind wandered at times to some things I didn't want to ruminate nor worry about, but I just kept focusing on the russet potato I was dicing.
So, you can thank that russet (also known as Russet Burbank) for my decision to share Frida's incredible painting of Luther Burbank, who was an American botanist and plant breeder who came up with the russet after experimenting with other potatoes such as the Rough Purple Chili from South America. Oh, and if you don't mind, would you leave a comment telling me how you describe the smell and taste of a russet potato? Thanks!

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

I don't know how to do this now. So, here goes.

I have forgotten how to post here, but my daughter does not like me posting things about myself on facebook that she feels make her sad and are too personal. So, I am back. I don't know for how long, And, I want to post a song, but I have forgotten how to do any of this.

Sunday, June 21, 2015


I was telling Wes how it seems strange how much movies find a way to interject themselves into what we go through. This weekend, in the loss of a loved one, I was listening to all of the voices speaking, the children laughing and playing, the food being prepared and eaten, watching faces lifted in laughter and tears rolling down cheeks, & I thought about this scene in the movie Philadelphia where friends and loved ones had gathered together to remember the loved one they has lost to death. Had I not heard this song nor seen this movie, I don't know where my mind would have gone at that moment. I am not sure how I feel about that. To a novel or poem, to a previous experience, to thoughts of mortality and the loss so hard to articulate? I don't know. Grief takes us so many places. Memories flood over us and we are awash and filled with the colors of loss, of having loved deeply, of carrying on, or summer and watermelon or fireworks or the brilliant blue sky above.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015


There is no one. I must find what it is I seek inside myself.  I am not alone, but I am. And, I am terribly lonely.

Friday, February 20, 2015

Opening the Tawny

I had forgotten
the simple, complex
subtleties the tongue

holds in its bumps
and ridges. The nuances
of currant, vanilla, and orchards

exploding like a supernova
in the mouth. My mouth.
My tongue, exploring again,

doing the reminiscing dance,
wanting to catch your tongue
up in the whole thing. Sirens

halt the stir, wail mournful
and loud as hounds at work.
Let them leave me

in my reverie, glass to lips,
memory intact, and harsh
as the brutal ice falling outside

my window, memories
sepia-colored and clear,
Grant me the grace

to lift the port to call, again
and again, leeward and starboard
and full steam ahead beneath

the gathering stars.

Saturday, January 31, 2015