the thanks giving post.

Though Thanksgiving has come and gone, I want to voice my thanks before continuing on with updates and new reflections and the Christmas-themed posts sure to ensue.

I got out of town and had a wonderful holiday weekend with family and an extension of my family (aka my brother-in-law's family...my family in-law in-law?) and also that boy I'm so fond of. We went to fetch the Christmas tree for my parents' house and decorated it with twinkly lights and cheery ornaments, which means that I will soon begin waxing poetic and becoming wildly excited about any- and everything even remotely related to Christmas. That's right. Be ready.

But first, some giving of thanks.

It's unfortunate that we need a national holiday to remind us to be thankful, but it seems that we do. (We don't need a national holiday to remind us to eat, so I'm going to stick to giving thanks as the primary purpose of the day/this post.) I probably complain more than I give thanks, which is a horribly skewed way of going about things in a life that has been filled with far more goodness than suffering.

And I want to live a life of gratitude.

There is much to be thankful for, after all. On the most elementary level, I am thankful for the material things that I have but don't need or deserve and so many go without--big things like plenty of food for the table and a little apartment all my own; simple and ultimately unnecessary things like cooling racks for hot loaves of bread; the electric blanket and humidifier that, though also unnecessary, make my Michigan winters much more bearable; shoes for my feet to stay warm and my body well, because it could be otherwise.

And of course, there are the good people surrounding me. There's this one girl who has now lovingly listened to a year's worth of joy and heartache and anxiety, who picked much of my summer sustenance with her very own hands, with whom I've never cooked a disappointing meal and whose single-syllable laugh I at some point unconsciously picked up. There's this other lovely lady in my city but from my hometown who absolutely makes my "short list," whose presence seems to ensure an eventful evening out and with whom a bottle of wine, a dessert (two desserts?), a platter of cheeses or a Valentine's day celebration was never unhappily shared. There is an incredible woman who believes in me more than I believe in myself, has a strength and vitality I strive to emulate and is the kind of mother that makes me want to be a mother.

I have a father who is a source of constant joy and offers much-needed guidance for my professional life on a regular basis, and my mom--who is also one of my very best friends--listens to me talk nonstop whenever I need to. (Seriously. My parents are awesome.) My sister and brother-in-law are living in the same country I am living in, which is something to be thankful for in itself, and on top of that, they are great house guests, read even my longest emails without complaining and are full of wisdom and hope.

There are good folks at my workplace; wise mentors from college and church; dear old friends now living in other cities, states and countries far off; kind landlords who fix even little things like broken doorknobs; new, inspiring acquaintances in this city that is my home.

And there is also a boy who makes me laugh until my face hurts, sees the bit of goodness in everything, listens to every last story even from a boring day, runs with me in the dark, cares about the world and appreciates a good meal or a well-made scone just as much as I do.

Along with all of that, I give thanks for the great big things, the things I ought to be expressing gratitude for with every breath: justice in my daily life, freedom, opportunity, health, peace in my neighborhood--and a good and sovereign God who holds everything, even that which is not just or peaceful or right.

Finally, I am thankful for a vast miscellany of other gratitude-inducing aspects of my life, such as my (currently) pest-and-rodent-free apartment, the fact that said apartment is in a house painted purple, my job (for both its good days and its bad ones), my little office with its fake plant, local businesses where they know my name and cardigans and baked goods and music and artwork and poetry and cookbooks and hope.

May I remain thankful all the year 'round.

on chocolate/pear cake, running and autumn.

On the brink of another autumn weekend--oh autumn how I love you!--I wanted to review last weekend's loveliness.

I made this Bittersweet Chocolate and Pear Cake for some very dear friends' housewarming party. The cake met with great approval, though with its farmers market pears and specks of dark chocolate and that golden taste of browned butter, I shouldn't be surprised. Yet in my personal philosophy, anything remotely worthy of celebration ought to be celebrated, and baking success certainly falls into that camp--as does that happy house filled with some of my favorite people. And so I celebrate. And we eat cake.

Following that lovely evening, I awoke to Sunday's perfectly crisp air and bright sunlight and cool temperatures to run the Grand Rapids Half Marathon, which I accomplished in a pleasing 1 hour and 43 minutes. I was thrilled with my time and stats and so forth. And I will probably regret what I'm about to do, but if you're interested in proof that I was running that morning, here it is. I promise, people, despite the look on my face in the majority of those photographs, I do enjoy running. Ha. But it was an utterly perfect day; it really was. Mist hovered across open grass, and the wooded areas of the route blazed with brilliant colors. People ran in great herds--such camaraderie!--and families and friends held signs and chased the route on bicycles and cheered. And on top of all of that, there's this really great guy who woke up early early early in the morning to bring me downtown to the race and cheer me on. This, of course, made the day all the more wonderful. I am blessed indeed.

Then, in the spirit of recovery, four pals and I enjoyed an afternoon of sun and fall colors paired with fresh donuts and hot apple cider. Delightful.

So with that, cheers to another weekend! May your mornings be bright and your cider be warm, my friends.

i don't want to miss it.

I have a whole slew of things I want to write about and recipes I would like to share and pictures to post from events and excursions back in September...but for the moment, I offer something a bit more simple.

I'm compelled to write about changing seasons over and over again here. And I think I've said before that I don't know what it is that intrigues me so about this process in nature and the emotions and feelings and memories it evokes in us (or me, at least). But I'm fascinated. On top of that, I adore fall. Yesterday, I read the following in an old post from the Smitten Kitchen: I love fall. I mean, I know how decidedly unoriginal that is to say, but I can't help it. And I'm sure it's even more unoriginal to say it by way of quotation, but doing so makes me feel less alone in my decided un-originality and weakness for all of the beauties of fall--the bright splashes of color in the trees, the crunch of the leaves on the ground, the chill of the crisp air, the apples and squash and cider and dark leafy greens...

And yet. I'm afraid I'm missing it. I'm afraid I'm missing the change of seasons and the glory of autumn and...life. It feels as though there has been so much going on--trips and visitors and a conference and meetings and deadlines and events and friends and a race to train for and an apartment to clean and my first and then second illness of the season--and on top of that, I have the overworking of my mind to contend with as I overanalyze my life, worry about all of the injustice and mess of the world and pursue the impossible task of figuring out both the present and the future right now while staying poised and trying not to let anyone see that I'm a bit afraid of all that may or may not come.

When I got home from work yesterday, I felt that fall had suddenly begun in earnest while I was tucked away in my office. As I walked to my front door, it seemed that I was brushing through more layers of leaves than before, and the air had that feel of autumn that I can't possibly describe with words, and it finally smelled like the season.

I went outside for a moment today on my lunch break. I didn't have any errands to run, and I didn't really want to go anywhere. But before staying in (to write this post--something other than a grant request or press release or newsletter), I wanted to catch a bit of the sunlight on my face, to see the brightness of the leaves in their splendor, to feel a little more free and alive.

It was perfect. Still, cool, bright.

And I don't want to miss this...this season, this time of my life, this moment. It's too easy to wish it all away.

So tonight, I will appreciate the wonder of the season as I run through the leaves covering the sidewalks of my neighborhood, and I will revel in and enjoy the present moments of my life. This weekend, I will bake for friends with autumn fruits and happily run a race in my city. I will appreciate and love well the good folks that surround me. I will decide what needs to be decided, and I will let everything else rest, peacefully. I won't worry about the future...the bluster and ice of the winter to come or the elements of the life that awaits me.

There is too much goodness in my life and in this world to be anything but thankful.

summer eating.

As promised, in following are some summer food photographs. I'm well aware how belatedly I'm posting this, but for a few more hours, I remind you, it is still officially summer. Besides, the temperatures climbed into the eighties today here in GR, so I think this remains relevant. Enjoy!

Hot oats are my winter staple; this summer, I replaced them with homemade muesli for the sake of staying cool. My version builds from this recipe, and it's a bit different each time, depending on my mood and the fruit in season. (The photograph below might actually be some variant on simple toasted oats, but I cannot remember, and it's close enough to muesli to include it here, I'd say.)

When I spent the summer in Phoenix two years ago, I became quite enamored with the Health Muffin served at a great coffee shop that also introduced me to latte art and created all kinds of baked goodness in its tiny kitchen in the back. When I left Phoenix, I asked if they might be willing to share the recipe, and they happily told me that it springs from the one found on the back of bags of Bob's Red Mill flaxseed. Perhaps someday I'll post my version, but until then, go find yourself said package of flax and simply substitute fresh summer fruit (blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, peaches or a combination) for the apples and zucchini for some or all of the carrots. You will be pleased with the results, I am sure.

Sweet Green Pea Crostini, quite heavenly indeed. Recipe found here.

An excellent meal prepared and enjoyed with Sarah G. and Ben on the fourth of July.

Plum-Rosemary Upside-Down Cake, recipe compliments of Mark Bittman in How to Cook Everything Vegetarian, baked with Taylor in hopes of speeding Ben's recovery from surgery midsummer. This was also the night on which Taylor gave me my 50mm prime lens, which I am in love with.

This cake is called Blueberry Boy Bait. What a name! I felt the same way this lady did...how could I not bake a cake with such a great name--and a great story to boot? (Effective, you ask? Perhaps. I did say it was a lovely summer. But I disclose nothing more.)

And finally, a nectarine and blueberry tart that I baked with my sister the first time she and the dear brother-in-law stayed at my little place. Inspired by two other recipes, we came up with our own version, which Sara posted on her blog. Here I have adorned it with some Greek yogurt. Incredible.

All that said, bring on the apples and butternut squash and sweet potatoes and dark leafy greens. I have extra blankets for my bed and have unearthed my stash of scarves. I am ready for fall.