Light That Pours

The natural light that pours in my kitchen window each day is like vitamin to my soul. I can't imagine being without it in the morning. Just outside is an old wood slat fence, with a few tangled vines intertwined throughout. It obscures my neighbors house that sits twenty feet away. Tree limbs are scattered above with ample sky visible. 

A ledge over my sink always has plants. The coleus in a pot comes from a plant that was on my patio and knocked over by the wind. I discovered it late, when it was dying. I took a sprig and stuck it into some earth and now it is about to make little purple blooms. The orchid is not mine. I am watching over it while a friend is out of the country. 

Lately, I have been growing sunflower sprouts. They are delicious and nutritious to snack on, and available almost all the time because I start them in containers every four or five days. I use bird seed to start the seedlings.

All this life—thanks to the window, and light that pours in to bless existence.

Summer's Fare

Late summer is always a colorful time at local farmers markets. At our farmers market here in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA, open Tuesday and Saturday mornings, the place bustles with vendors and buyers. Of course, people come primarily to buy the fresh produce, but also the wholesome ambience with music, and flowers, and smells of roasting food contributes to the happiness. Here in Northern New Mexico, there is a tradition of roasting green chilis over flames—and the smell is fabulous.

I am an artist, so relishing the incredible colors and shapes of produce is a treat. Recently I made a still-life painting from items I bought at the market.

Lately, I have been bringing home an armful of fresh food and making flavorful soups that lasts for days.